


Last Chance Liars

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Liar, Liar [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daryl needed a twin so meet Ace, Domestic Violence/Abuse, F/M, Infertility, Merle is alive, Pregnancy, Shane too, Tagged explicit for domestic violence themes, bartender/street artist reader, guess what yall i still suck at this, miscarriage/pregnancy loss, multiple POVs, non-linear storytelling, obviously, past drug abuse, reader is a Dixon, tags updated as we move along as per usual, tho the smut's gotten smuttier too so idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 80
Words: 204,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: Whatever it takes. That what you and Shane Walsh have said, over and over, since humanity hit last call and the dead started rising. The end of the world had, so far, been full of ups and downs, but it had led the two of you to realize what a last call lie all that 'just friends' business was and it had given you back your relationship with your brothers. You'd lost a lot, your little family of survivors, but you'd found a new home in Alexandria, and things were looking up.Until they weren't. Trouble was never far away, and with Negan and his Saviors, it was clear to you that this was it- your last chance. Would 'whatever it takes' be enough, or would it make last call liars out of you again?
Relationships: Shane Walsh/Original Female Character(s), Shane Walsh/Reader, Shane Walsh/You
Series: Liar, Liar [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544500
Comments: 487
Kudos: 137





	1. Lie #1: "No Way In Hell." - Ace

**Author's Note:**

> Part three! You guys should know the drill by now- multiple POVs, flashbacks are my jam, and tags on each chapter for more specific warnings. I can't believe y'all have stuck with me this long, and I am delighted to start on the last leg of Shane and Ace's journey! Love you all! - JustRamblinOn
> 
> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> character injury  
> references to past domestic violence/abuse

You glanced up to check the play of light and shadow, and luckily your brothers hadn't moved much. They were cleaning guns and crossbows, everything spread out over the picnic table outside the cabin, and you'd finally finished cleaning inside. Will had gone into town for awhile, which you all knew could mean a few hours or a few days, and he'd been adamant that everything be spotless when he got back. 

"Ain't leavin' this place lookin' like shit, ya shits. Boys, clean the guns, get rid of the carcasses, an' get the woodpile restocked. Ace, clean the place up. We're goin' home when I get back. Ya three got school," he'd snapped on his way out the door. 

When you finished, you'd grabbed your sketchbook and headed outside. Sitting on the rotting steps, you'd started sketching the two of them, working together in silence. For once, no one was arguing, and you were enjoying the quiet, the sunlight, the birdsong. 

Merle glanced up and caught you studying them, and he pointed the brush at you with a grin. "Ya get ya shit done?" 

"Of course I did." 

"Good. Should be back soon." 

Daryl snorted. "Or he'll be back three days from now an' act like it's our fault somehow." 

"Yeah, there's that," Merle muttered. "Ya get all ya homework done?" 

"Yes, mom," you called sarcastically. Daryl laughed and Merle rolled his eyes. 

"Someone has to be. Hey, Ace. Ya hear that?" 

You looked up at him and frowned, listening hard. "That bird?" 

He snorted. "Yeah, that bird. What is it?" 

The bird sang again, and you shrugged. "I dunno. What is it?" 

"Mockingbird," Daryl grunted. "Listen." He whistled. 

You waited. Just when you were about to laugh and tell them both they were idiots, a bird trilled the same thing Daryl had. He and Merle grinned at each other, and you couldn't help but smile as well. "Shit. That was cool." 

"Language, lil sis." 

Merle leaned heavily on your shoulder, breathing harsh and strained. You didn't have to look to know he'd be pale and exhausted, face pinched in pain. His leg was well and truly fucked, and you knew from experience how much being stabbed in the side hurt. 

This day had officially gone to shit. 

"Come on, you useless lump," you muttered, glancing behind you at the door you'd shoved what was left of a chair in front of. This house wouldn't hold up long when that herd caught up with you, and you needed to get Merle patched up a little more so you could go out the back and get home, damn it. 

Merle huffed. "You just sit me down somewhere, sis, an' gimme my gun. Then ya get yourself out of here and bring back the cavalry, aight?" 

You ignored that, cause- not likely. You maneuvered both of you into the kitchen, sitting Merle down into a chair. "Sit. Shut up. Be right back." 

He didn't argue, which said more than you were happy to hear about how bad off he was. You ducked into the bathroom, a dingy disgusting thing before the end of the world, and tried not to gag. Maybe there was a first aid kit. Some not-too-disgusting towels shoved into the back of a cabinet would be great. Anything to help, since you had absolutely nothing and you weren't entirely sure just what all Merle had going on. 

You came up empty, because of course. "Ok," you muttered to yourself, scrubbing a hand over your eyes. "Ok. Herd is not far off. Hell, herd is probably already here. I wonder if there's an attic? Shit, there's gonna be something. There always is." 

When the first gunshot popped, you jumped. It wasn't Merle; you were sure of it, but as more of them sounded you hauled ass back into the kitchen to find your brother leaning on the wall to peak out the window, hand pressed over his side. You could see the blood on his fingers and you gritted your teeth. 

"Got a bunch of 'em, lil sis. Get ya ass out the back. They's handlin' the dead." 

You pulled his arm around your shoulders and hauled him off the wall. "Shut up. We're both going out the back. Who the hell are they?" 

"Ain't no tellin'. Ya should leave ol' Merle; get back for Darylina'n the others," Merle repeated. 

You ignored him harder, in favor of checking the back door and the immediate vicinity. "Clear. Let's go, jackass." 

It took them all of about five minutes to find you. It started with someone fucking whistling, and you and Merle glanced at each other and started limping along faster. Then the whistling echoed from motherfucking everywhere, and you froze as men filtered out of the buildings and filled the street, circling you. 

Merle pushed away to stand at your back, and you glared hard and tried not to be afraid. It didn't really work, but you were reasonably certain it didn't show. 

"Well, well, well," a voice came, cheerful but empty, and his smile matched his voice. He planted his hands on his hips and beamed at you. "What is this?" 

Merle scoffed. "What's it fuckin' look like? Get the hell out of our way. Ain't got no business with ya, you ain't got none with us." 

"Well, see, my friend- that's where you are wrong." The asshole shrugged and gestured grandly. "We took care of those dead back there. Eliminated a whole list of problems for you two." 

"What do you want, a medal of honor? You took them out for yourselves," you snapped. 

His eyes stayed hard and calculating as he turned them on you. "We took them out for everyone, honey. Including you, and including those you've got back home, behind those big walls. In return, you're going to take us there." 

You snorted. "No. Kindly fuck off, asshole. Get out of our way." 

He sighed heavily, and a laugh ran along the group. The head asshole crossed his arms and shook his head, then turned that huge, blank caricature of a smile on you again. "Now, is that any way to talk to your Saviors?"

You blinked slowly at Shane. "Are you flirting or starting a fight, Dickhead?" 

He flashed you a grin and sipped from the champagne glass, not taking his eyes off you. "I'm serious. Room full of art, and I still can't take my eyes off you. You cleaned up good, girl." 

You rolled your eyes at him, grabbed his chin, and directed his attention toward the art all over Maria's place. "You're supposed to be looking at the art. I made the art. Everyone's supposed to be buying the art." 

"They will be," he said. "This theme gig is kinda cool. Might take you up on that offer to go dancing in that thing you're calling a dress, too. What do you say we get out of here early and go burn up a dance floor?" 

You laughed, knowing that's what he'd been going for. "Again, this is my show. That's my art. I can't go anywhere, asshole." 

"Well, fine," he muttered, sighing dramatically. 

You saw the amusement in his eyes and rolled your own, but he'd done what he wanted to. Your nerves were gone, and you looked out at the crowd milling around in roaring twenties ensembles and sipping champagne and sidecars while admiring your art. It was a pretty good turnout, and Maria had been right, as usual. The theme had delighted people, and you could see the genuine enjoyment in their eyes. 

Add in the murder mystery that was about to begin- all the clues hidden in your artworks somewhere- and you might just have a smash hit on your hands. Especially since you'd convinced Shane to not only obtain the off-white, three piece suit, but also to rock a fedora, carry a cane, and play a major role in the shenanigans about to occur. His only stipulation had been the necessity of a fat cigar, and you'd given in with a laugh after a token objection. 

He could smoke as many cigars as he wanted if he helped you sell some damn art. 

He winked at you and offered his arm, and you looped your hand through it and nodded at Maria. She rang a bell and conversation gradually stopped, and this was it. Let the fun begin, you thought as you fixed a smile on your face and stepped forward on Shane's arm, note cards in hand, to start it off. He was going to enjoy being a Mafia boss way too much. 

To be fair, so were you. Sometimes it was fun to let your inner bad girl shine. You stole the fedora from Shane's head, tossed it like a bottle, and plopped it rakishly down on your own, tilted to cover one eye as you struck a pose. 

"Thief," Shane said with a roll of his eyes. 

"And don't you forget it, darling. None of you forget it either, because tonight, we're all thieves, criminals, and mobsters. And someone out there… Is a murderer, too." You couldn't stop the spreading smile as everyone oohed dramatically. 

Merle's jaw was tight and pinched, his face far too pale. You'd been whispering to each other for two days about how you'd get out of here when he was better, but- 

"Ace?" 

You tensed and whirled at the soft voice, tightening for a fight. Shit, two days in this place and you were already more on edge than you’d ever been with Mal or Will. "What?" you snapped, glaring at the woman. 

She held up her hands in the universal gesture of peace. She was too thin, almost frail looking, but so was everyone here. At least, those on the factory floor were. You shifted closer to your brother as he started to sit up. 

Neither of you were willing to show weakness. You'd learned what a mistake that was in the first few hours. 

"Listen. My name's Alice. My- I was married to a paramedic, in another life," the woman whispered. "I'm- I learned some things from him. Enough to keep some people alive. I'd like to help." 

You scoffed. "No one helps here." 

"Not true. We help those we trust, and our circles are small. But- your brother doesn't look so great," Alice said. Her eyes darted everywhere and her shoulders were hunched. "I'm kind of- I try my best to take care of people down here. We don't get to see Dr. Carson very often. We can't afford to." 

Anger swept through you. Yeah, you got that. After Merle's initial treatment, according to Negan's points system, the two of you would be here… Roughly forever. 

Fuck that. 

"Hell naw. Ain't gonna be indebted to no one else," Merle snapped, but you heard the strain in his voice. 

You were pretty sure his side was infected. And the leg wasn't much better. You stepped up to Alice, who squared her shoulders and met your eyes with wary confidence. Finally you licked your lips, shoved your hand through your hair, and sighed. "I know a little first aid from patching that lump and my twin up over the years, but I'm not a doctor. I think he's got an infection." 

Alice smiled, her lips barely moving but warmth filling her eyes. "Welcome to the Sanctuary," she said softly, and stepped around you to glare at Merle. "Lie back down, please." 

You smothered a laugh at her tone, despite your worries. You'd get out of here. She'd know how to patch Merle up enough that you could escape, preferably before Dickhead and Darrie did something dumb trying to rescue you. 

Besides, you needed to warn Rick about what the hell all you'd gotten yourselves into. 

Alice brought that bright optimism crashing down around your ears within two minutes. She gently peeled back the bandage on Merle's side, stared without changing her expression, and covered it back up. She rolled up his pants leg and you saw her contain the wince. 

"How bad?" you asked tiredly. 

His leg had been even more fucked than you'd thought, as you discovered when Simon the Empty-Eyed Asshole had ordered one of his bullies to do some basic triage. The bone had been sticking out of his skin and honestly, you had no idea how your brother had made it as far with you as he had. You'd been on foot, damn him. Stubborn idiot.

The bone was no longer outside the skin, but Dr. Carson didn't exactly have a way to make a decent cast, and you didn't exactly have a way to pay for it other than work it off and maybe not eat for the duration of your time here, which kind of defeated the purpose, as you'd been told. Carson had set the break, stitched the hole in his leg, and wrapped it up, bracing it on either side with rebar, essentially. You knew that meant it would heal fucked, and there was a real possibility Merle would be the one-handed limping wonder when it was finished. Especially since he refused to let you work on your own, for the both of you. So you'd been keeping an eye on his gimpy ass as well as all the asshole Saviors and trying to do what was required of you. 

Merle couldn't clean for shit before the world ended either, so you'd been doing half his work for him anyway over the past couple of days. God, you were tired. 

Alice hesitated, and you shoved the hand through your hair again. 

"Yeah," you muttered. "Thank you." 

Merle got tired of you hovering real fast, and snapped at you that he could take care of himself and your meager collection of possessions just fine. "Go smoke a damn cigarette, lil sis. Ya need one." 

He wasn't wrong, but you weren't exactly thrilled about it. You wandered off to the back staircase, wishing you didn't feel the need to smoke these damn things. They'd been given to you by Negan himself, the massive dick, after you'd told him just what he could do with his offer of a roll in the hay. 

"I've been told, darlin', that it is not appropriate to say things like that to someone on the first date. Here. These are free, don't worry," he added with a wink and a smile. "And if you change your mind-" He strolled off whistling and you shoved the carton in your pocket, turning back to mopping the floor and trying not to let him get to you. 

That was the best way to handle assholes and bullies, after all. 

You leaned against the wall and sighed, blowing smoke and hating it. You'd been quitting, damn it. 

Merle was fucked. You had to figure something out, and until he was well enough to move quickly and quietly again, you weren't going anywhere. How the hell were you going to manage to get him treated by Carson? You'd fall behind on points- shit, you were already behind on points, to be honest. 

A door slammed a few floors up and you tensed. You were fine where you were, you weren't breaking any rules, but that didn't necessarily matter to the right people here. God, this place was exhausting. You'd thought being constantly alert for the dead had been draining, but being with Shane had made you forget how bad people are. Just regular people, who like to hurt each other. 

Constant vigilance would get you killed just as surely as not paying attention, you thought, and forced yourself to relax as footsteps sounded on the stairs. You studied the floor and your feet, grimacing at the blood stains on your shoes. 

You wanted a shower, and clean clothes, and food, and Shane. God, you wanted Shane. Dickhead was probably losing his damn mind right now, and you hoped once again that there were enough people- Rick, Darrie, Michonne, Maggie and Glenn- to keep him from going off the deep end. 

The feet stopped and someone half-laughed. You looked up, against your better judgement, and sneered. 

"You." 

Sherry smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was clean, and looked a hell of a lot better than the last time you'd seen her, holding a gun on you and Darrie from the back of your brother's bike, after the two of you had tried to help her. She flicked a lighter and stuck a cigarette of her own between her lips. "Me," she agreed. "You ended up here too. Don't be a bitch. We didn't hurt you, and we could have." 

"Oh, gee, thanks so much," you muttered. "What the hell did you and Dwight do?" 

She shrugged. "What we had to. What it took to stay alive. You were brought in with your brother, right? Not the one I met." 

"Yeah," you said slowly, tension making your shoulders hurt. "Why?" 

"He's not doing great. I heard from Tanya, who talked to David, who heard it from Pete down on the floor. Alice checked him out, said it was bad. 'Prepare for a walker situation' bad." 

Your fist clenched and you spun away from her, dropping the cigarette and grinding it out. If you punched her, there'd be hell to pay, but if she said another word you were going to. She grabbed your arm and you spun, swinging before you thought about it. 

Sherry ducked it and scoffed, but she let go of your arm. "There's a way." 

"I know your way. No fucking thanks," you snapped. 

She shrugged. "He'll like you. He already likes you. You've got spirit. And it'll save your brother's life. You won't be able to get the points, if you try, and you'll be given a worse offer." 

You stared at her, thinking about Merle's pale face. Then you thought about Dickhead, and no. Just no. "No way in hell." 

"That's what I said. But it's better when you're alive. Both of you," Sherry whispered. "Whatever it takes."


	2. Lie #2: "What The Hell, Why Not? This Might As Well Be A Thing." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> major character death(s) (canon)

He couldn’t get to Slugger. Shane was trying, he could hear her crying, but he couldn’t see anything except what was right in front of him, and he was on his knees trying to wade through quicksand that looked an awful lot like there was blood in it. Somewhere he could hear the baby crying too, and he had to get to Slugger and her little one before-

He jerked as he woke abruptly, hand dropping for a gun that wasn’t there, and almost fell out of the chair. He scrubbed both hands across his face, trying to banish the nightmare, but shit. Reality was almost as bad. Maybe worse. 

He shoved his hands through his hair and looked anxiously to Maggie. She'd been asleep since almost the minute they made it through Hilltop's gate, with Shane carrying her into Dr. Carson's trailer completely panicked. She'd been so pale, her fever so high, and Shane had only left her side to help Sasha with- with the bodies. 

Maggie's eyes were open and on him. He let out a breath of relief and she reached for his hand, gripping tightly without a word. 

"You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that." 

Shane forced himself to watch, to keep his eyes open and fixed as the bastard swung his bat up and brought it crashing down on Abraham's head. Abraham tossed a peace sign in Sasha's direction, his back straight and his eyes fixed on Negan. He didn't back down; didn't cry; didn't shrink away, and since Shane had just placed his own life above Abraham's, he'd do the man the honor of witnessing it. 

The first hit sent him flat on his face and Shane flinched with it. But Abraham pushed himself back to his knees, blood running down his face, and half-whispered. "Suck. My. Nuts." 

He didn't get up from the next blow. Negan kept swinging, and Maggie retched beside Shane. Her hand groped for his, shaking and too damn cold, and Shane held on tight and waited for it to end. Waited for the bastard to decided that was enough, and Abraham was dead. Waited to wake up from this nightmare, but he knew that wasn't coming.

Shane leaned forward, taking Maggie's hand in both of his, and pressed her fingers to his lips. He tried not to think about other times he'd sat beside a hospital bed, worried and praying someone he cared about would be ok. 

He wasn't praying anymore. There wasn't a god on this dusty, blood-soaked rock, if there ever had been. 

Maggie's eyes were dull and haunted, and Shane couldn't even tell her anything. He had no idea what the doctor had said, even though he'd been right here for most of it. He'd been too- 

He didn't know what he'd been. Didn't know what he was now. But he dug deep and tried to muster up something for Maggie, some comfort or encouragement. "Greene-" 

"It's Rhee," she whispered, face contorting. "It's Rhee." 

He closed his eyes against the pain in her voice and nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Rhee. I'm so-" 

The door to the trailer opened and they both looked up as Dr. Carson entered with a soft smile. Shane noticed someone had placed blue flowers beside her bed, and he wondered when that had happened. How long had he been asleep? 

"Maggie! Welcome back. Do you remember me? I'm Dr. Carson." 

Shane squeezed Maggie's fingers as he started to stand. "I'll head out. Let you talk to the doctor." 

"No. Stay," Maggie whispered. "Please." 

Shane stayed. Dr. Carson talked. 

"You're at Hilltop Colony, in case you don't remember. You suffered from a condition called abruptio placentae. It's a separation of the placenta from the uterus." 

Shane could see the panic in Maggie's eyes, despite the calm, almost blank expression she had, and he tightened his grip on her hand. Shit. That sounded bad. Shane wasn't exactly an expert on babies, but placenta was the thing that kept the little one alive and tethered to the mom, and it needed to be attached, right? It made the belly button when it fell off. 

He didn't know why, but he'd always thought that was funny. He wasn't laughing now. 

"It's unusual this early, but, uh… Could be caused by trauma," the doctor continued. 

Shane almost laughed. God knew they'd had enough of that. 

"Possibly the bruises on your abdomen-" 

Shane's eyes narrowed, ready to question what fucking bruises, before he remembered Ace and Maggie getting taken. He figured something had happened that Maggie hadn't seen fit to share with the rest of them, and then he remembered the slash in her shirt, right over her stomach. But she'd said she was fine. 

Shane added another heap of guilt to his shoulders even as Maggie spoke, her eyes closed. "Did I- I… lose…?" 

Shane stared the doctor down and shifted so he could put a hand on Maggie's shoulder and still keep her hand locked in his. 

"No," Carson said simply. 

Shane closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. Maggie's hand clenched around his fingers, and he rubbed her shoulder with his thumb and listened. She probably wouldn't be in any shape to, he thought. 

"Separation was small. Baby's heart rate is normal. Here, listen," Carson offered. 

Shane opened his eyes again as Maggie let go of his hand to pull her shirt up, staring sightlessly at the ceiling until the soft, rapid thrum filled the air. 

"There it is," Carson said gently. "Now, you need to take it easy for a few days. You don't want to exacerbate the separation anymore, and you really need to stay here for the duration of your pregnancy. If anything else happens, I can take care of it." 

"Yes. Yes, she will. Don't argue, Rhee," Shane said mildly. Then he rolled his eyes and grabbed at her elbow as she started trying to sit up. "Stubborn woman."

She gripped his arm like a vise, her eyes wild on nothing. "Can you say that again?" 

"What?" Carson asked. 

Maggie looked up at the doctor, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Everything you just said." 

"Hey, man, did you hear a word I said?" Shane asked, looking over at Rick in the passenger seat. 

They had the windows rolled down, the radar gun on, and were parked at the best speed trap in King County, and it was dead as a doornail today. Frankly, he was bored, and he'd been regaling Rick with stories from some of his misadventures in dating here lately. Rick stared out the window, making the occasional grunt or acknowledgement in all the right places, but Shane had slipped in things that sure as shit weren't true and would have gotten a reaction if Rick had been paying even the tiniest bit of attention. 

When all that got him was another grunt, he sighed, drummed his fingers on the side mirror, and looked out at the highway. Someone needed to go high enough above the speed limit to make pulling them worth it. He kept talking, wondering how long it would take before Rick started listening again. 

"So, anyway, after I break up with Lisa and her drug dealer, I roll on up to Atlanta, to see what Slugger's up to. I hit the bar and find out she dumped that asshole again, and I'm like, sweet. Go out tonight, after work? And she's all, the hell you talking about, Dickhead, I get off work at 2 am. I'm like shit girl, you think I don't know that? I'm a cop; I'll get us out of any trouble we get in." He glanced over to see if he was listening yet and Rick was still brooding out the window, so Shane bit his lip and kept going. "She finally decided what the fuck, we only live once, right? So Slugger and I close the place down, only she gets this bright idea, see, and we don't leave. She pulls out the good tequila, puts some down and dirty playlist on the jukebox, and we end up fuckin' on the bar." 

Rick made an interested noise and Shane rolled his eyes. How the hell was the man not hearing anything he said? 

"Yep. So there we are, mid-act, as it were, and in comes Jason, says he forgot something. Jason don't bat an eye, don't gloat, just starts taking his shirt off and I'm like… what the hell, why not? This might as well be a thing." 

"Might as well," Rick agreed, glancing down at his phone with a frown. 

"Shit, brother, what the hell has you so distracted?" 

Rick snorted. "Had a fight with Lori." 

"Well, let's talk about that, then," Shane offered, adjusting his hat and shifting in the seat. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and eyed a convertible coming up pretty fast in the distance. That seemed promising. 

Radar gun said only five over, and Shane sighed as Rick turned back to the window. 

"She just- we don't understand each other anymore, it seems. I don't know, brother. It's not worth rehashing." Rick paused and Shane rolled his eyes, but then Rick shot him a sly look over his shoulder. "Besides, that threesome on the bar with Ace and Jason sounds a lot more interesting than my marital dispute." 

Shane cracked up, then hit the lights without even glancing at the gun as some shithead flew up the highway. 

Shane left Maggie inside to change. He'd argued against her getting up so soon, but Dr. Carson had told him that taking it easy didn't mean she had to stay in bed, just that she needed to not get herself into violent and stressful situations. Shane had barely resisted the urge to comment that their entire lives were one long violent and stressful situation.

Outside, he found Sasha sitting on the trailer's steps, and she looked up when he leaned against the wall beside her. 

"How is she?" 

Shane grunted, tossing his head in the direction of the trailer. "Stubborn." 

"Are you just learning that now?" Sasha asked dryly. 

Shane scoffed and rubbed at his eyes again, and Sasha stood as Maggie came out. Sasha studied her in silence and Maggie studied back. 

"You ok?" 

Maggie nodded. "Where is he? Where- where are they both?" 

They'd buried them in Hilltop's garden. Jesus had said it was ok, and Shane had been grateful. Hilltop burned their dead, after all. That wouldn't do, not for their people.

Digging was the only reason Shane had left Maggie's side, because there was no way he was letting a stranger do it. He couldn't. He owed Glenn too much. 

He stood at their backs, arms crossed, and tried not to see the graves or the way Maggie and Sasha looked at them. He couldn't think about it. Couldn't remember the way Maggie had screamed and wailed, couldn't remember Glenn's last words, or Shane's own choice to not move to intercede for the second time. 

He should have, he thought dully as Maggie knelt at Glenn's grave and touched the dirt. Sasha crouched beside her, taking Glenn's pocket watch- old man Hershel's pocket watch first, Shane remembered, and shoved a hand through his hair and looked away- out and handing it to Maggie. 

"It was in Glenn's pocket," Sasha said gently. "All Abraham had was a cigar." 

She smiled tightly, but it was real, and Shane wondered how in the hell she did that. He wouldn't have. If Ace- 

Shane shut that thought down immediately. Maggie and Sasha were both crying now, and he stared at the flowers behind them and tried to subdue the wellspring of helpless anger in the face of their grief. 

"It feels like everything is wrong," Sasha whispered. 

Shane scoffed. "'Cause it is." 

"No. Not everything," Maggie disagreed. "We have to stay. The baby and I. The doctor says he should be close, so he can keep an eye on us." 

"Then we'll stay," Sasha said simply. 

Maggie squeezed her hand and turned to look up at Shane. "You have to go home." 

He snorted and didn't dignify that with a response. Maggie rose, her fingers lingering on the watch she'd laid on Glenn's grave as a marker, and Shane reached for her elbow immediately. The doctor might have said she was going to be ok, but that didn't mean she was right now, and Shane had to- 

He had to do something, for Glenn. He had to keep Maggie and the baby safe. 

She patted his hand and turned serious eyes on him. "Shane. You have to go back." 

"No." 

"When they come," Maggie said quietly, her eyes going to some point over Shane's shoulder. "And they'll come, you know that- they'll be looking for you. He'll be looking for you. He's going to want to rub it in." 

Shane felt his face shut down, and he dropped his hand from Maggie's arm. "So?" 

"Who do you think will pay the price if he doesn't find you? It won't be you. It'll be one of them." 

He shifted, hooking his thumbs into his empty gun belt to keep from clenching his fists and finding himself a handy target, like a wall or a random Hilltop resident. "That's a low blow, Rhee." 

Her eyes welled up, but she smiled faintly and nodded. "I know. It's the truth, though. We're here. We'll be ok here. You got me here." 

"No, I didn't," he whispered, shaking his head in denial. 

Maggie stepped closer and kissed his cheek, and Shane hugged her back when she leaned into him. "Yes, you did. You got me here. Sasha and I, we'll stay. But you have to go home, and be there for them. They need you." 

"You two need me here." 

"I'll watch out for them. Keep Maggie behaving." 

Shane looked up at the ninja man's soft voice, and he met calm, pale blue eyes. "You will." 

Jesus' lips twitched, and Shane knew he knew it wasn't a question. He bent and replaced the flowers on Abraham's grave with the fresh bundle in his hands. "I will. It's good to see you up." 

"Flowers," Maggie whispered. "It was you." 

"The ones beside your bed, too," Jesus agreed. "Slipped in while you were both asleep. I read somewhere that blue flowers inspire strength and calming. Shane's been watching over you since you came in the gates. I'll be glad to take charge for a bit." 

Shane eyed him harder, but shit. The ninja man had proven himself a friend, and when he'd heard about Ace- 

"What's green?" Maggie asked as Jesus replaced the bunch on Glenn's grave as well. 

Jesus touched her shoulder as she sniffled. "Release."

She nodded and wiped at her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to look at him. "Shane." 

"I know. You be careful. Do what the doctor says," he ordered gently. He hated it, but they were right. And with Carl and Judy back home, and the bat-wielding bastard sure to pay a visit... Yeah. Shane had to go back. Damn it. 

"I'll make sure she does," Sasha agreed, stepping in closer to Maggie and Jesus. "And if I don't, Jesus will." 

"I will. I promise. Go home," Maggie repeated. 

Shane sighed. He kissed Maggie's cheek and Sasha's, nodded to Jesus, and looked down at the graves one more time. "Be good. Both of you. All three of you," he said finally. "I'll be back to check in." 

"We'll be here," Maggie said softly. "All of us."


	3. Lie #3: "Got Nothing To Lose." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

You sighed when Laura found you on the roof. "Am I being summoned?" 

"Yeah. Come on." 

You rose reluctantly, flipping the sketchbook closed and shoving your shit back into your bag. You swung it onto your shoulder when she reached to take it from you and shot her a look as you headed for the door. "For shit's sake, I can carry my own gear." 

Laura shrugged like she didn't give two shits, probably because she didn't, and opened the door for you. "Ladies first," she said mockingly. 

Ok, that had been kind of funny. Whatever. 

She knocked on his door and waited for his 'come in' before opening it and gesturing you inside. "Found her." 

"Thank you. You can leave." 

You turned to go and Negan laughed, low and delighted. "Not you, sweetheart. Though good try." 

You shrugged and wandered further into the room, dropping your art bag down beside the chair and crossing your arms as you studied him. "What can I do for you today, Negan?" 

He was obviously still working, and you hated that you were forced to acknowledge just how much he did that. He was a goddamn asshole, a dick, and a bully. But he ran this place. He worked long hours and did shit jobs and made tough decisions. If he weren't such a fucking bastard, you might have liked him. 

"Well, my lovely wife, I have not yet had dinner, and I wanted a little company," he said with a slow smile. "So, have a seat until it gets here. I've gotta finish this shit up. Pull out that sketchbook. I know you want to." 

The sad thing was, he was right. You did want to. It was the only escape you had, and you lost yourself in the art and forgot who and where you were as often as possible. He turned back to the paperwork spread all over the coffee table as you shifted, holding an internal debate. Finally you dropped into the chair, pulled the pencil from behind your ear, and flipped open a new page. 

It didn't do to completely lose yourself when Negan was around, so you started drawing him. He leaned forward, leather jacket on his shoulders but hanging loose, one finger running down a list as he scribbled notes in a notebook with the other hand. Lucille sat propped on the sofa beside him, but he'd taken off the single glove he wore when out and about. It looked like he'd been at work on whatever it was for awhile, based on the papers scattered across the coffee table. Silence grew and stretched as you blocked in his basic form, curled in his chair like you'd been there before. 

You had. 

You were working on details- the buckles on his jacket, the folds in his shirt, the way his eyes narrowed at what he was doing- when he half-laughed and broke the silence. 

"You know you're humming?" 

You blinked, because actually, you hadn't. "I do that when I sketch," you muttered. "If there was music, I'd be singing along. I always worked with music." 

"I don't mind it. Fills the air. And it's a hell of a lot nicer than some of the ways that happens around here." He tossed the pencil down and scrubbed a hand across his face. "People- people are animals, darlin'." 

You scoffed. "That's what happens when you treat them like slaves and commodities." 

"You think that's what I'm doing here?" 

You shrugged and kept sketching. "Of course you are. Your workers are slaves. They can never earn enough points to get free of the 'debt' you say they owe you. Your Saviors are slaves as well, because one wrong move could put them down there just as easily. You say 'people are a resource' like that's why they shouldn't be killed, but they aren't. People aren't resources. People are people. Without people, what's the point?" 

Oh, you missed your people. And you were beginning to wonder just what in the hell the point of staying alive here was. Whatever it takes. 

A knock on the door had you shoving aside that painful thought to find him studying you closely, smile on his lips and keen interest in his eyes. "Oh, Ace," he said as he shoved to his feet. "This is why you're my favorite. You are not afraid to say what you think." 

"Got nothing to lose," you muttered as he strolled to his door. 

He laughed as his Saviors brought in covered plates and set them on the table, closing the door behind them as they filed out. He rested his hands on your shoulders and whispered into your ear. "Oh, yes. You do. There's always something to lose. Come on, dear wife. Let's eat." 

Once again, you knew he was right. There was always something to lose. 

"Well, sweetheart," Negan drawled an hour or so later. Food had been eaten. He'd been in a chatty mood, and not a threatening one, and you'd actually been enjoying the debate over music genres. 

It was part of why he was so dangerous, you thought as tension crept up your spine at his tone. He could be charming, personable. Human. 

And then- 

You sipped water as your stomach churned. "Well, what?" 

"Have you changed your mind?" He leaned across the table and traced a finger lightly down your arm and you bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood. 

You set your cup down firmly; met his eyes. "No." 

His smile was knowing. "Such a shame. Well, alright then. It's late. I'm tired. We're going on a little field trip tomorrow, darlin', and I do mean all of us, so you-" He rose, pulled out your chair, and pulled you to your feet. He tucked your hand into his arm, scooped up your art bag, and strolled toward the door while your heart tried to jackhammer its way out of your chest. 

Field trip? What field trip? And who was 'all of us'? Did that include you? Did it include- 

He opened the door and drew you close. Instantly, you went stiff, eyes fixed firmly on a point somewhere near his shoulder. Two fingers hooked under your chin and tipped your head back, and he laughed under his breath as he bent and pressed his lips to yours. 

You didn't move a muscle. You didn't kiss him back, but that also meant you didn't deck him either, and you tried very hard not to think until he was satisfied. He ran his fingers over your cheek as he let you go, leaning in the doorway. 

"You get some rest now. Big day tomorrow… Slugger." 

You flinched, and he laughed again as you walked away.

You stepped back and stared, still not quite believing you'd done this and gotten away with it. You hurriedly dropped the last can of paint back into your bag and tossed it over your shoulder, looking around furtively in case you needed to run. 

You didn't want to run; you wanted to stare at the wall for awhile longer. 

You'd done it. You'd been plotting for ages, and you'd finally done. You'd snuck out of the apartment while everyone else was asleep, grabbed the gear you'd stashed earlier in the day, and made your way here. 

Daryl and Merle would call you a dumbass, but you'd had to. You'd needed to paint this wall since you'd walked by months ago, and once you'd finally settled on a tag- the outline of the spades symbol, the 'a' filling it looking like an unfinished star- your fingers had started itching. It was time. If you wanted to make a real career out of this, you had to get started. 

Tonight, you'd gotten started. You'd expected to be busted the whole damn time, but three hours later, you were done and you'd never be the same. 

It had been so much fun. And just look, look, how it had turned out! It was better than you'd hoped for. It was- shit, it was wonky on that side. Damn it. 

Sirens sounded in the distance as you started to step in and adjust. You bit your lip and glanced up the alley, then winced when you looked at your watch. Yeah, it was four thirty in the morning. You had to get back before someone noticed you were gone. The wonky side would just have to stay wonky. 

You'd done it, though, you reminded yourself as you took off for home. You'd painted the wall, painted your tag. You were a street artist now. 

Negan was waiting for you in the lounge the next morning, flirting heavily with Sherry over by the bar. Amber was one of the newest, even fresher than you, and she was sitting in the corner with Tanya and Frankie, looking like she wanted to be crying but didn't dare to. No one else was up and wandering around yet, and you really, really didn't want to do whatever it was he had in store for today. It was going to be bad. 

Brutally bad, you thought before you could help yourself, and your stomach rolled as you wondered again how things had gone. No one would tell you anything, and Negan was enjoying your mental anguish. Today was going to suck, you had little doubt. 

He straightened and smiled at you, holding out a hand for yours. You didn't take it and he flashed you a grin. "Very well. Sherry, darling, we'll be back. Shall we?" 

You set your hand on his arm while gritting your teeth, suddenly feeling more sympathetic to Amber's obvious difficulty not shedding a tear. You wanted to cry yourself. 

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. This wasn't where you were supposed to be. You missed- 

You cut that thought off even as it formed, because if you thought about who and what you missed, you wouldn't be able to stay sharp. And you had to be sharp, for yourself and- 

Dwight had him by the back of his dirty, ugly sweatsuit, and your breath caught as your heart clenched. 

Darrie. Oh, goddamn it, Darrie, you thought wildly. What the hell had happened? He stared at the floor, blinking rapidly, and his face was more battered and bruised than you'd seen it in years. You swallowed back the bile that rose in your throat at the sight of him, willing him to look up at you. Just for a second, so you could see his eyes. 

He glanced your way as you and Negan passed, Negan's laugh half-heard under his breath. He knew what he was doing to you, to your brother- and he was enjoying it, damn it. 

Daryl's eyes were haunted, and he couldn't look at you long. That second of contact was enough to have a tear sliding down your cheek, and you brushed it away under the guise of tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Goddamn it, you thought viciously. You hadn't seen him looking like that- Shit. Even when Will had damn near killed him and done his best to kill you as well, Darrie hadn't looked like that. Dwight's job was to break your brother, and you were afraid- horribly, horribly afraid- he was going to do exactly that. 

You'd been down to the cell once. Dwight and Fat Joey had run you off, saying you couldn't be there. You'd heard the music blaring, something horrifically pop and upbeat that even you had hated. You'd guess they'd been keeping it loud and varying it so he couldn't sleep. Who even knew what else. And someone had beaten the shit out of him recently. 

"What did you do to him?" you asked softly as Negan opened the door and set his hand on your back to guide you through it. 

He looked from you to Daryl and back. "What did I do? I didn't do anything, sweetheart. He tried to escape. He brought that damage on himself." 

Dwight shoved him into the back of one of the fleet of trucks, Daryl barely glancing your way again as you leveled Negan with a glare. 

"Oh, sure. Like you didn't set him up!" 

"Careful, sweetheart. Don't you get too feisty with me now," Negan said softly. He whistled, and a truck pulled up in front of the steps while he held your eyes. "Don't want to have to teach any lessons. We're going to Alexandria this morning, dearest wife! I bet they'll have a good wedding present waiting for us, don't you think?" 

You scoffed and tossed your head, trying to get your emotions under control before you got Darrie hurt. "You're an asshole."

Alexandria. You were going home. Wild hope sprang up, and you ruthlessly crushed it under your heel to keep from getting out of control. There was no way this was going to end any way but badly, and returning to this- this hellhole would just be that much worse after you saw home. After you saw them. 

"Yes. Yes, I am," Negan agreed with a laugh. He swung Lucille up to his shoulder and gestured you down the stairs with a kiss on your cheek and a wink. "But, hell, Slugger- you like me anyway." 

They took the blindfold off and hauled you out of the truck, and you immediately grabbed Merle's arm to steady him, before you even looked around. When you did, you wished you hadn't. 

It was a factory of some sort, or had been in a former age, towering up into the wide, painfully bright blue sky. Simon the asshole and his band of thugs poured out of vehicles, unloading things and moving around the two of you like you were invisible. You were fine with that, especially since you were busy staring at the fence, scattered every few feet with walkers tied and chained in place. They formed a hedge six deep, clearly surrounding the base. What in the actual fuck? 

Then it hit you- the smell, the noise. It provided the living humans with cover. Probably served to repel or confuse herds. 

And of course, made an excellent moat to keep people inside, a cold little voice whispered in the back of your head. 

Someone whistled, the same tune you'd heard earlier, and all activity around you stopped as Saviors hit their knees. Simon grabbed Merle and forced him down, and you went before he could set a hand on you to do the same. 

"Oh, as you were. You all have shit to do. Simon!" 

Simon rose as the activity resumed, and you helped your brother back onto his feet, worrying more about how pale he was than about whatever fresh hell you'd stumbled onto. 

"Here, boss!" Simon yelled. He grabbed your elbow and started forward, Merle leaning on you heavily.

Negan- it had to be Negan, right?- was tall, had dark hair and a salt and pepper beard, wore a leather jacket, one glove, and- holy shit. That was a bat wrapped in barbed wire he was leaning on as he studied you right back. He had a look in his eyes you recognized, and you glared back as a slow, pleased smile spread on his lips. 

"Well, hello, beautiful. Just who the hell are you, and what-" He leaned forward, glancing at Merle as he emphasized the word, "- are you doing with that beast?" 

Men, you thought disgustedly. World ended, and most of them were still the same. He'd make the face for sure, in the bar. Then order a Lagavulin double, try to get your number, and end up leaving with a twenty-something airhead who was impressed by his charm and didn't notice the sleaze underneath.

"You're an asshole," you informed him. "My brother's hurt."

"So I see," Negan said slowly. "And now, you owe us for the treatment he's already received, and anything we do to put his ugly backside back together, as well as for whatever resources Simon here used to save you." 

You and Merle glanced at each other and started laughing at the same time. You shook your head at Negan and shrugged. "Fine then. We'll just leave." 

"Oh, I don't believe you will, but damn, the balls on this one! Simon, she is a handful! I like it, and I would love, love to see what you do in the sack. How about it, darlin'? Care for a roll in the hay?" He bit his lip, lifting his eyebrows in anticipation. 

You looked down your nose and sneered. "Go to hell." 

"Oh!" He threw his head back, a full, genuine laugh filling the air. "No, sweetheart, I don't think I will… but you're gonna feel like you have," he added with a wink. "Simon. Take 'em to the floor. Give 'em jobs." 

"Ready for this blast from the past, sweetheart?" Negan drawled as his trucks pulled up outside the walls. You stared at the sign- "Mercy for the lost; vengeance for the plunderers"- and tried to get yourself under control. You were either going to hurl, cry, or both. 

He'd killed someone. One of your friends, you had no doubt. And he wouldn't even tell you who. You didn't know if he'd kept his word, aside from Darrie being alive. Had he- 

You tried to tear your eyes away from the closed gates, and the life you missed so desperately that lay behind them. Shane. Judy. Carl. Rick. Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, Abraham, Rosita, Tara, Carol, Eugene. Shane. 

Oh, god, your Dickhead had to still be alive. He had to be. There wasn't another choice. 

"It's been a little under two weeks. It's hardly the past," you muttered. 

He swung out of the truck and grinned at you. "Stay here. It is the past now, darlin'. And I'm your future. Watch this." 

You couldn't do anything else, as he swung Lucille to his shoulder and strolled for the gate with a cheerful whistle.

He banged on the gate three times with Lucille, then turned to bite his lip and wink at you as he half-sang. "Little pig, little pig, let me in!" 

The inner gate rolled back.


	4. Lie #4: "Take Out The Head And The Body Would Follow, Right? Might Be Worth It." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon-typical violence  
> major character death (canon)  
> physical and psychological character torture (canon)

He drove up to the gates and waited. Finally he hung his head out the window and whistled, and Eugene's battered face pulled the gate open and peered through. Shane waved, Eugene nodded, and just like that, he was home. 

Didn't feel like home. 

He walked slowly, nodded to subdued and frightened faces, and wondered just how the fuck this all had happened. Alexandria had been perfect. They'd finally been safe. They'd made it good, they'd made it strong, and they were only getting stronger. He and Slugger, they'd been settled into weird domestic life with her asshole brothers and his little girl, and Shane had been happy. He'd been so goddamn happy, and half the time he hadn't even noticed because he was too busy looking for the next problem. 

Wasn't that the way of it? Didn't fucking know what he had till it was gone- just like when Slugger'd said they weren't friends anymore, when Rick got shot, when the world ended, when Rick fucking came back to life, when Lor died, when the prison fell, when Beth died. The list went on. You'd think he'd have learned by now, but no, he thought as he stared at his front door. No, he hadn't. 

And now, everything was gone.

The house was silent and dark. Shane toed off his shoes and closed the door, looking around blankly and wondering why he hadn't enjoyed it more the last time this place had been full of noise and light and laughter. Merle and Daryl bickering, Ace claiming to referee but adding to the chaos instead, Judy laughing and babbling- all of them, gathered around that table and eating, the night before it all went to shit and Merle and Ace disappeared. Rick and Carl had come over and the noise had tripled, and Shane had pulled Slugger- holding his girl, their girl- into his lap and muttered in her ear about why they lived with so many fucking people. 

He wanted those people back, damn it. He wanted all of them back in here, laughing and throwing bread at each other like they had been. 

Shane turned and very calmly put his fist through the drywall. That felt pretty good, so he was thinking about doing it again when the door opened. 

"Uncle Shane?" 

He swallowed hard, running a shaking hand over his face, and cleared his throat. "Yeah, kid. I'm back. Maggie's- Maggie's ok." 

"Thank fuck," Carl said with feeling, and Shane didn't bother to tell him to watch his language. The kid had seen it too. He knew. 

Judy made a noise and Shane whipped around fast, tears forming in his eyes. "Hey, little girl," he whispered. "Oh, I missed you, baby." 

She reached for him, her eyes wide and solemn, and Shane scooped his girl out of Carl's arms and into his own, then hooked an arm around the kid and pulled him close. His family, he thought. His kids, as much as Rick's. They'd almost- 

He wasn't thinking about that. "Where's your dad?" he asked Carl instead, voice rough as Judy leaned on his shoulder. 

Carl shrugged and pulled away from him, and Shane let him go. The kid frowned at the hole in the wall, eye narrowing as he turned back to Shane. He didn't say anything, and Shane didn't either. 

"He's around somewhere," Carl muttered. "Taking stock for when they come. We have a week." 

"I know." 

"We should be getting ready to fight." 

Shane sighed and shifted Judith in his arms. She started playing with the necklace Shane almost couldn’t believe he still had, and he kissed her nose absently. "Carl, he has- that bastard has-" 

"I know." Carl's face was set, his jaw tight. "And I know what he did. I was there. But we'll get them back. All of them. And we'll win. We've beaten worse, Uncle Shane." 

Carl was so serious. So earnest. He still believed they could do anything, Shane thought tiredly. He still believed in Super Shane, and the Invincible Rick Grimes. Shane shook his head and leaned back against the bar. "I don't think so, little man. I just- I don't think so."

The bat kept landing blows long after Abraham was dead. Shane's mind was a roaring blank, unable to look away from the horror but not really processing it either, and he knew that bastard was talking, endlessly talking, even as he turned what was left of Abraham's head into blood and brains and shattered tiny bones. 

Shane couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own blood in his ears, and the bastard saying "my Slugger" about his girl. 

Negan finally stopped, swinging his bat around, and blood spattered across Shane's face and Rick's. 

The world snapped back into focus, and Negan's laugh reached his ears. "You guys! Look at my dirty girl!" 

Shane considered six different ways to kill that man before they killed him, and rejected all of them. Maggie was clinging to his hand still, and he couldn't risk- he couldn't- Hell, he couldn’t do anything, could he? 

"Sweetheart…" Negan stopped in front of Rosita and Shane went tense. "Lay your eyes on this." 

Rosita was sobbing, barely on her knees still, and Negan shoved that gore-covered nightmare into her face. Shane knew they'd broken up, that Abraham had left Rosita for Sasha, and Rosita had been hooking up with Spencer Monroe, but it was obvious in that moment that none of that mattered to her. She loved Abraham, and now Negan was shoving his blood and brains into her face, on the end of the weapon that killed him. 

Rosita's eyes stayed fixed on the ground, not on the bat inches from her nose. 

"Oh, damn," Negan breathed. "Were you- were you together? That sucks. But if you were, you should know, there was a reason for all this. Red- and hell, he was, is, and forever will be red! He just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look." 

Negan shoved the dripping bat back into her face, and Shane winced as Rosita's eyes stayed blank and unseeing. 

"Take a damn look!" he roared.

Daryl was the one who broke. Daryl exploded up, clocked Negan across the face, and was going for seconds when Saviors drug him down. Shane shoved halfway to his feet to back Ace's brother up, because hell- they couldn't kill all of them, right? Much to his dismay, hands grabbed him and forced him back down. He struggled, but Negan turned, flinging more gore his way as Rick screamed Daryl's name and Shane's. 

"No!" Negan declared, bat pointed straight at Rick. "No. Oh, no. That? That is a no-no."

Shane went still and cold as Negan crouched by Daryl's head, Ace's brother pinned to the ground by two other men and looking ready to keep fucking fighting anyway. Then the bat pointed his way. 

"And I see you over there, Dickhead. Name certainly suits you, don't it? Sit right there and shut the hell up while I figure out just how we are going to handle this little situation. 'Cause that whole thing- not one bit of that shit flies here!" 

Shane and Rick were on their way to the armory to gear up when they heard the engines. Rick's jaw tightened, and he turned without a word and started for the front gate instead. 

"Said a week, didn't he?" Shane asked. "Only been four days since I got back." 

"Yep," Rick agreed. 

They walked faster. 

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Negan. Lucille. I know I had to make a pretty strong first impression!" 

Shane stayed at Rick's back, arms crossed, as his brother walked up to the gate and stared through it in stony silence. The bastard with the bat smiled slowly, his eyes way too fucking amused. He enjoyed messing with people, Shane thought- the psychology as well as the brutality. He enjoyed breaking people. 

"Well, hello, there," Negan said slowly. Then his face and tone hardened when Rick said nothing in response, and Shane found his hand dropping toward the gun at his side. "Do not make me have to ask." 

Rick's head turned like he knew what Shane was thinking, and he forced himself to relax and let Rick handle it. 

"You said a week. You're early," Rick snarled, but he was opening the gate. 

Negan's predatory smile slid over his face again. "I missed you. Oh, Rick- come on out here. Watch this. Callin' it!" 

Shane hoped the fucking walker bit Negan, right on the dick. That wasn't what happened, of course, but he could still wish. Negan took the dead fuck out with one hit of the bat, and turned back, arms spread and dipping down into it in his enthusiasm. "Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy!" 

"He's insane," Rosita muttered. "He's insane." 

"No," Shane disagreed, meeting her eyes grimly. "He's not." 

Done showboating for the moment, Negan strolled back. "Alright, everybody. Let's get started. Big day." 

Shane's eyes were fixed on Rick, who stood frozen in the open gate, looking to the side. Shane couldn't see what was back there, but from the way Rick held his shoulders and the way Negan was biting his lip and watching Rick like a lion watching a mouse, it wasn't going to be good. 

"Hey, Rick. Did you see that? What I just did? That is some service!" 

Shane took a half step forward, draw by the sinking feeling about whatever it was Rick was fixated on, as Negan kept talking. Shane wondered if the man really just enjoyed the sound of his own goddamn voice that much. 

"I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate. 'Who is that guy, anyway?'" Negan prattled on, his eyes sly and amused as he glanced Spencer's way. Then he focused on Shane, and the Cheshire cat smile grew. "Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger's dome in? Nope! I just take care of one of these dead pricks that could have killed one of y'all." 

Shane wished once again that it had killed Negan as he bowed mockingly and swung Lucille back up to his shoulder. "Service," Negan declared, and started forward. Then he paused. "Wait! I'm forgetting something. Hold this," he ordered Rick, and winked at Shane as he shoved the bat into Rick's hand. 

Shane kept his eyes on Rick, wondering if his brother was going to swing the thing at Negan's head and just be done with it. Sure, most of them would probably get killed in the attempt, but not everyone. And take out the head and the body would follow, right? Might be worth it. 

Negan had wandered out of sight, back toward his trucks, and Shane's throat went dry and he almost hit his knees right there when Negan came strolling back. 

"Slugger," he breathed. 

She had her hand in the crook of Negan's arm. Her eyes were wide and wet and worried, shadows smudged under his favorite Dixon blues, and her other hand clenched in a fist at her side, but she looked- she looked unharmed. He couldn't see any bruises or blood on her, and something hard and tight that had been worried she'd come back to him worse than after Malcolm fucking Hall, relaxed slightly. 

Her eyes locked on his and she started crying, silent tears running down her cheeks that she didn't try to hide or do anything about, and he was two steps in her direction when Negan spoke. 

"Allow me to introduce my beautiful wife, Slugger- oh wait! You've already met! That's not going to be a problem for anyone, now is it?" 

Shane tore his eyes from Slugger's, focusing on the bastard who had his hand covering hers on his arm now. Negan was watching him closely, and Shane wondered if it was Rick he'd have to worry about killing Negan after all. 

Then Ace twitched, swiping tears off her face and running her shaking hand through her hair in one of Shane's own gestures, and all the anger drained out of him. Defeat and quiet despair replaced it, and Shane knew he'd give the bastard anything he wanted, including cutting his own heart out and laying it at Negan's feet, because Negan had his Slugger. That was it. That was all. 

Negan won. 

Malcolm fucking Hall, Shane thought with a sneer. He shook his head in vague disgust as Hall flirted with groupies and shook hands with fans, the buckle on his leather cuff bracelet and the chains layered around his neck catching the stage lights. Shane really hated that tool. 

But Ace was hung up on him, so despite the fact that he absolutely in no way understood it at all, he kept his mouth shut. For the most part. 

Shane sipped his beer and shifted in his seat, annoyed and vaguely uncomfortable this far up the bar. His usual spot had been taken when he rolled in, and now he was far closer to Grave Behavior than he wanted to be and didn't have his back to the wall like he liked. And he was nowhere near the computer where Ace would talk to him while she punched orders in and closed out tabs. 

He rolled his eyes at himself for how whiny that made him seem, flashed Jason a thumbs up as hipster Thor quirked an eyebrow in question on his way past with a tray full of food, and contemplated nachos. They really were amazing here. 

"Hey there. I know you." 

Shane turned, removing the sneer from his lip with difficulty. Malcolm leaned on one elbow on the bar beside him, and wiggled his beer bottle Jason's way. Shane considered telling him that was terrible bar etiquette, but shit. Jason would cut him down to size if he got too damn bad. Or Ace would herself, he thought with a barely concealed smile. 

Since he figured he ought to make an effort to be on good terms with her boyfriend, what with how often they'd been talking and hanging out, he nodded and held out a hand. "Shane Walsh. We've met a couple times. Friend of Ace's." 

Malcolm shook his hand, eyes already wandering the room, and flashed a flirty grin at the coed who brushed up against the both as she slipped by. Place was busy, but it sure wasn't that busy, and Malcolm turned to follow her progress through the room. 

"Yeah, yeah. Knew you looked familiar. Her cop buddy, right? Can you fix my speeding tickets for me?" he said with a fake laugh, slapping Shane's arm lightly. 

Shane took another sip of his beer and forced out a polite smile. "No, I can't do anything about that. Atlanta's not my jurisdiction. Sorry, man." 

"Eh, no worries. Worth a shot, right? Hey, listen, thanks for coming out tonight for the show, and I'm gonna go chase Jason down the bar to get the boys and I some refills before we go back on. Where the hell is my girl? She's the only competent bartender in this place, I swear," Hall said with an irritated look. 

"She's on break. Been running her ass off," Shane said mildly. "Jason made her go. He'll be along in a minute. See?" 

As he was speaking, Jason appeared with four bottles and dropped them in front of Malcolm. "There you go, Mal, don't get your panties in a twist. I'm busy. Walsh, you good?" 

"Yeah, man. Take a break when Slugger gets back in, or you'll fall over," Shane said easily. 

Jason rolled his eyes and was gone. 

Malcolm collected his bottles and shot Shane a look he didn't recognize. "Well, I'm back to it. Thanks for coming to the show." 

Shane didn't have to respond, since he was already gone, but he muttered into his Valhalla mug anyway. "Not here for you, asshat." 

"Hot diggety dog! This place is magnificent! An embarrassment of riches, as they say. I bet we find us a nice wedding gift in here!" Negan turned and winked at Rick. "I bet you will have plenty to offer up!" 

Shane's eyes met Ace's and she looked away, down at her feet. Her lips parted slightly in a long, silent breath, and Shane's temper rose, swamping the defeat. That was his girl, and he'd be damned if he'd lose her to this bastard. Or any of them, he thought viciously as Dwight hauled Daryl through the gate. Since Negan had all three of his Dixons. 

Shane studied Ace's twin, worried as hell. Daryl'd been shot and bleeding when he saw him last, and now, if possible, he looked even worse. He'd been beaten to hell and back, but it was the way he stood that had Shane ready to fight. 

Daryl wouldn't meet anyone's eyes long, even Shane's, and he flinched at every noise and every touch. They'd been torturing him, and Shane discovered he gave a great deal more shits about Ace's shithead brothers than he'd thought he did. 

And where the hell was Merle? He wondered. The bastard hadn't brought him up, and Shane didn't see him among the Saviors, which honestly, he'd considered a strong possibility. Merle's moral code was a hell of a lot looser than Daryl's, and less complicated than Ace's. Plus that blind Dixon loyalty would have them doing whatever they had to for each other- which was the only reason, Shane damn well knew, that Negan had his girl on his arm right now. 

"Hey, Daryl," he called, starting Dixon's way. 

"No! No." 

He froze at Negan's hard tone, and met Daryl's bruised eyes. He tried to tell him to hang in there, that they were coming for all three of them. He and Rick, they wouldn't leave the Dixon clan in hell for long. 

Negan stepped between Daryl and Shane, pointing at both him and Rick. "Nope. He's the help. You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him." 

Shane glared harder. Negan licked his lip and smiled, eyes on Shane. 

"Negan-" 

"No, my dear wife. You don't get an opinion here, sweetheart," Negan called to her. "And they don't get to talk to you, either."

Rick grabbed Shane's arm, and Shane finally turned away.

"That's better," Negan said softly. "Same goes for everyone. All right. Let's get this show on the road. See what kind of goodies you've got in the cupboard!" 

"We set aside half the supplies-" 

Negan sighed. "No, Rick. No. You don't decide what we take. I do. Now, here's how this is going to work. My Saviors, they're gonna search your houses, keep the process moving. My Slugger there is going to stay here and wait for us. After all, she should not have to lift any of her pretty little fingers in work, right? And you two-" He jabbed his fingers at Rick and Shane and winked. "You're gonna show me around."


	5. Lie #5: "Glad You're Here, Though." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> implied/referenced domestic violence

Thursday nights were usually dull, and tonight was no exception. The only thing that alleviated the boredom was the customers themselves, because your Thursday night crowd consisted almost entirely of die-hards and regulars.

At ten pm this particular Thursday night, you honestly considered closing the bar down two hours early. There were exactly six customers in the bar, and you knew them all by name. 

Mara, the fiery Irish redhead who usually haunted the bar on Friday nights and devastated the tourists when she'd belt out Gaelic drinking songs, was on her third shot of Jamey neat, picking at a plate of fries and reading a book. 

Tom and Gary were off in a corner with drafts and burgers, and you smiled when Tom picked up Gary's hand and kissed his knuckles. Gary rolled his eyes and reclaimed his hand, and you could imagine the bickering. They were good like that. 

Jody sat at one of the high-tops with her long-haul trucking boyfriend, Mark. Mark and Jody were like a hurricane and a tornado, and everyone was glad Mark was gone for weeks to months at a time. There'd been three bar fights (Mark enjoyed starting them with men who talked to Jody too long for his taste), a lot of broken mugs, and one memorable occasion where Jody had dumped a full bowl of chili on his head- and that was just in the restaurant. All of those incidents had ended with them making out even as they answered questions from the cops. You were one hundred percent convinced that crap was just elaborate and costly foreplay for them, and you sure as shit didn't understand it, but you adored Jody. 

And finally, your favorite new semi-regular was occupying what had rapidly become his space at the end of the bar, regaling you with stories from King County. The latest escapade included a dog, the back of their squad car, and Rick's family now needing a new couch because Rick had carried home fleas. Somehow Dickhead- who'd thought adopting the dog was a bright idea until Rick convinced him otherwise- had escaped without the fleas. 

"You're a lucky bastard, Walsh," you told him with a laugh, scanning your little kingdom from your perch near the computer. Shane matched your pose across the bar, one foot propped on the next chair over and his back against the wall. He flashed you a lazy grin and sipped from his mug- he'd told you to surprise him tonight, and you'd dropped a stout in front of him and discovered he did not, in fact, make the asshole face- half-laughing with you. 

"That I am, Slugger. That I am," he agreed. 

You eyed the clock and sighed, once again considering closing down early. "This fucking blows." 

"Well, sorry I'm not good enough company tonight, sweetheart," he said dryly. 

That earned him your middle finger and he laughed. You shrugged and gestured. "Too dead. Tips are gonna be shit, that's all. Not worth it, almost. I mean, Tom and Gary always tip too much, but still." 

"Yeah, it is… rather dead in here," Shane agreed. "If I roll out, will you be able to push the rest of these assholes out the door, close down early?" 

"I was thinking about it, but you don't have to leave." 

Shane grinned. "Takin' me home again tonight, Slugger? Thought you were on with the rock star." 

"I am," you said with a roll of your eyes. "I'm not taking you home. Well, I mean, you could come hang out, but I'm not-" 

The door opened, the first time that had happened in hours, and you looked up in surprise. You were the only front of house staff still there, so you slid off the counter with an automatic greeting on your lips that changed to a delighted smile. 

"Mal! Hey, babe!" you called instead, rounding the bar for a kiss. 

"Hey, Ace. Pretty dead in here." Mal wrapped his arm around your waist, eyes scanning the bar even as he bent to kiss you again. 

"What are you doing here? I thought you guys had a gig tonight." You pulled away, smiling as he tried to keep you against him, to head back behind the bar and get him a beer. "You end early?" 

"Yeah," he agreed. He eyed Shane, who sipped his draft and watched in silence. 

You brightened, delighted to finally introduce them. "Oh! Mal, this is Shane." 

Mal's eyes went hot on yours and your breath caught in your throat. Well, shit, you thought clearly. He was still pissed about Shane, apparently. He'd seemed fine about it, even asking some questions about him. Asking if that’s who you were talking to when you were texting... Asking if you'd been hanging out together again. 

Oh, fuck. 

He turned to Shane and offered his hand as you popped the top off the beer with your stomach in knots. "Ace's cop friend." 

"Yeah, that's me," Shane agreed. "You're Grave Behavior. Heard you play a few weeks back. You guys aren't bad." 

Malcolm smiled, and you relaxed slightly. "Yeah, I am. Weren't expecting me tonight, huh, babe?" 

The tension crept back in and you pasted a smile on your face. "Well, no. Cause gig. Glad you're here though. You get to meet Shane, and it's dead. I can use the company." 

"Well, here I am." Mal sipped his beer and eyed you sideways, and you clenched your hands on the edge of the counter to hide how they wanted to shake. 

This was going to be a rough night. 

Shane didn't look at you again. You'd seen his and Rick's expressions when Negan threatened to have him 'cut something off' Daryl, and you shivered even in the sunlight. What the hell had he done to them? Rick, in particular, looked- 

Well, he looked broken, in a way you never thought you'd see. He'd come back from the dead. He'd gone through the serious crazy, that hallucinating bastard. He'd survived Terminus, gone off the rails again over Jessie, and had come back around to the incredible leader you'd been following since he'd walked out of the truck back in Atlanta, and you'd never seen him broken. Grief stricken, yes. Hurting, yes. Never broken. 

Negan had killed Abraham. You'd figured that much out, both by Rosita's face and Negan's comment about gingers. You'd seen pictures of some of Negan's work with Lucille, and you swallowed hard as your stomach rolled. That was happening a lot in Negan's company, damn it. 

You knew that wasn't it. That wasn't all he'd done. You just didn't know what else yet. 

"Rosita," Dwight called, drawing her name out and popping syllables mockingly. 

You opened your eyes, turning to glare at your brother's vest on Dwight's back and shoot daggers into his skull. You really, really hated that man. Honestly, you almost hated him more than you hated Negan. 

Almost.

"Where you going with your friend here?" Dwight asked. He blocked her from getting into the car parked by the gate, and you couldn't help but smile at the fuck-you expression on her face. Spencer hovered nearby, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else except where he was, and god, you understood that. 

"We were just heading out to-" Spencer started when Rosita didn't say a damn word. 

Dwight cut him off. "You know what? I don't care." 

He pulled Rosita's gun from her holster, tucking it into his bag, and held the bag open expectantly for Spencer. Then he took the rifles from the car, tucking them over his shoulder before turning back to Rosita, up in her personal space in a way that made you grind your teeth. 

Negan had a specific and painfully enforced no-rape policy, but that didn't stop harassment and threat. And, there was absolutely no way in hell any of these guys would know that. 

"Now that that's all settled, I got a job for ya," Dwight said cheerfully. "Go get me Daryl's bike." 

You jerked, hands clenching into fists. That bastard. You scoffed loudly, and Dwight glared over his shoulder. You smiled sweetly at him until he turned back to Rosita. 

She shrugged. "It ain't here." 

That had your eyes narrowing in question. The only reason Daryl wouldn't have had his bike when he was picked up by Negan was if he was with the group as a whole, which meant his bike should be here, right? What the hell had your family been up to while you were gone? 

"Well, if it ain't here, then you know where it is, right? We both know you know where it is." 

You glanced at Daryl from the corner of your eye and found him looking back at you. Neither of you turned, neither of you acknowledged the other. You both knew better. 

Rosita sighed and reached for the door handle, but Dwight cut her off again. He grabbed her hat, pulling it off her head with a laugh, and that was it. You'd had enough. 

"Damn it, D, just let her go! You want Daryl's bike that bad, she'll go fucking get it for you. Stop being an asshole," you snapped. 

He turned, the unburned side of his face twisted into fake surprise in a poor imitation of Negan. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess. I didn't realize that being the newest toy in Negan's sandbox put you in charge of shit." 

You crossed your arms and glared at him, not backing down but not escalating either. He was right. You weren't in charge of shit. But that had never stopped you from standing up for things before, and it wouldn't stop you right now. A mutter ran through those left at the gate, sounding amused as fuck, as Dwight turned back to Rosita. 

He shoved her hat into his bag and shrugged. "Now you're good to go. So go." 

If looks could kill, you thought with a vicious smile, Rosita would have incinerated D right then and there. She shoved past him, because of course he didn't move, and climbed into the driver's seat. Even as she slammed the door, Dwight reached through the window and grabbed her canteen. 

He poured all the water out onto the ground, and you shoved a hand through your hair and watched helplessly. 

"Don't take too long," he told Rosita. 

He was smiling as she and Spencer drove through the gate, and you shook your head at him in disgust. Asshole, you thought. He was an absolute asshole. 

Continuing his assholery, he handed off the guns to one of the others and stalked over to you, getting right up in your face with a glare. You put on your best bored expression and stared right through him. He couldn't do anything to you. Not a damn thing. 

But you couldn't do anything to him either. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled. "You don't tell us what to do. You don't go against our orders, not in front of them. We are makin' a point here, darlin', and they have to see that there is no going against us. If you-" 

"Hey, D. Boss wants the mule." 

Dwight looked pissed at the interruption, but he stalked over to Daryl and grabbed your brother by the arm. "Here. I'll take him." 

"Naw," Arat said. "Stay with the wife. I've got it." 

Dwight shrugged. Daryl started walking without a word, up the street after Rick and Shane and Negan. 

You leaned against the wall, on the mural you'd done of sunrise from the fallen tower, and wished you could just… go home. 

Not your room in Negan's wives quarters. That wasn't home. Your house here, with your brothers and Judith and Shane, home that was so achingly close and yet so far away. You wanted to take a shower, pull on one of Shane's shirts, and curl up in bed and sleep away this nightmare. Sleep until Shane slipped in and held you, and you could hear Daryl and Merle bickering in the hall, and Judy started crying on the monitor. Sleep until normal returned. 

Normal was never going to return, you thought. Never again. 

"You know, I'm not an asshole by nature." 

You opened your eyes in sheer surprise, one eyebrow lifted at Dwight. He stared at the painting, not at you, and you scoffed. "You kidnapped me and Daryl, threatened us, asked for our help, stole from us at gunpoint, and now you're torturing my brother and tormenting my friends. I'd beg to differ."

"I'm staying alive. Doing what I have to," Dwight disagreed, finally looking at you. "You know." 

"Oh, fuck off. Torturing Daryl? That's not something you have to do," you hissed, shoving off the wall to stand toe to toe with him. "That's not for survival. That's for advancement. You know damn well Negan will reward you if you break him." 

"And punish me if I don't. You never see that side of it, do you?" 

"Again, fuck off," you said mildly, the fight draining out of you. "We tried to help you. If you'd let us, everything could be different. Everything. Our circumstances are not the same. You know why I did- this."

Dwight shrugged. "You can think that if you want. I can't stop you. But they are. We're exactly the same, all of us. Just doing what we have to do to get by. You'll see it eventually." 

You rolled your eyes and leaned back against the wall. Dwight started to walk away, but stopped, eyes sweeping the mural again. 

"You do good work, Ace. But there's no room for artists and dreamers anymore. Just fighters." 

"You don't know anything about me, Dwight," you told him pleasantly. "Don't you dare try to tell me who I am." 

He smiled. "You're Negan's wife, sweetheart. I know exactly who you are." 

Your throat went dry and you stared at him, silent. You didn't have a response for that one. He was right.


	6. Lie #6: "He Figured They Were Probably Right About That." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> psychological torment  
> #NeganIsADick

Negan, Shane decided, was just an overgrown schoolyard bully. He enjoyed tormenting people, he got off on their fear, and he both hated and respected anyone who showed too much spine. And he never stopped talking. 

Saviors hauled all kinds of shit from everyone's houses. Chairs, mattresses, candlesticks, a cooler- there was, in Shane's opinion, no rhyme or reason to it. They just took anything they found remotely interesting. 

While Negan talked. 

"You see this?" he declared, strolling down the street with Rick, Shane, and Daryl trailing reluctantly behind him. "This is the kind of thing that just tickles my balls! A little cooperation, and everything is pleasant as punch!" 

Shane fought the urge to roll his eyes, instead shooting a calming look toward Francine and Bruce and a handful of others. They were watching the Saviors, arms crossed and faces running the gamut between angry and terrified. Shane's biggest worry right now was someone in this town doing something stupid and getting everyone in trouble over a object that could be replaced. 

Things, Shane had discovered after the end of the world, were not important. People were. 

"You see, we really are reasonable people once you get to know us," Negan continued. "Honest." 

He cracked open a soda, drank about half of it in one go, and tossed the rest aside. Shane's teeth ground together and he reminded himself not to be the idiot who got them all in trouble. While Negan wasn't watching, he shot a quick, assessing glance in Daryl's direction. 

Dixon stared at the ground, walking silently, and Shane's blood started to boil again. 

"Damn, I love this place!" Negan declared. 

"You love the sound of your own voice," Shane mumbled, too low- hopefully- for anyone to hear. Rick sent him a hot glare and Shane winced. Maybe it hadn't been low enough after all. 

"Negan! Something you might wanna see." One of Negan's Saviors walked up, a video camera in his hands. 

Shane frowned. They had video cameras? Shane didn't remember-oh, Deanna. The interviews. Aw, fucking hell, what had they all said on there? He wondered. 

Negan had been prattling on, and Shane discovered he could tune him out better than maybe he should have, all things considered. Saviors were hauling Aaron and Eric's mattress out of their house while they stood on the porch, and Shane caught Aaron's eye.

Aaron nodded slightly. He'd been there. He knew. 

"I've killed people. I don't even know how many by now." Rick's voice came, tinny through the camera's speaker but clear, and Shane forced himself to pay attention as the asshole whistled. 

"Jee-hee-sus!" Negan was staring at the camera, and he leaned closer to Rick. "That you, Rick, underneath all that man bush? Shit! I would not have messed with that guy." 

Shane remembered how Rick had looked back then. Hell, they'd all looked a little rough, but Rick- Well, Ace had described it as Rick's 'I'm going to murder you in your sleep' stare, eyes dead and looking straight through whoever he was staring at. 

Shane wouldn't have messed with Rick then either. They needed that Rick back, he thought grimly. That Rick- hell, that Shane- there was no limit to how far they'd go to keep people safe. Shane needed the Rick from the road, from the winter of 'this ain't a democracy anymore'. And he needed to be like he'd been on the farm. He needed to be ready to take down anyone and everyone, to get the people he loved safe. 

He thought about Slugger, crying on this asshole's arm, and he figured it wouldn't be too hard to become that man again. 

Negan turned the camera on Rick, filming him now, and Shane wondered if Negan had any idea how close his brother was to putting that bat into Negan's own skull. 

"But that's not you anymore… is it?" Negan asked. He turned the camera around to himself with a wicked grin. "Nope!" 

Negan handed the camera off and looked Shane dead in the eyes. "I really gotta shave this shit," he said, running a hand over his beard. "My wife, she- she says it tickles. If you know what I mean." 

The wink did him in. Shane was two steps in Negan's direction, hands clenched, when Rick grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back. Shane started to round on Rick, too damn angry at the idea of this bastard putting a finger on his girl to care who else died as long as Negan did and Shane got to take him down, but Negan's chuckle froze him in place. 

"Hit a nerve, did I, Dickhead? God, it really does suit you, doesn't it? Listen, I'm not one to rub a man's face in it when he loses, you know. But I think-" Negan's bright voice was punctuated by a cheerful smile and hard as steel eyes, and Shane's stomach sank to the ground. 

He'd fucked up. It'd been him who did the something stupid after all, he thought, and who was going to pay for it? Negan had plenty of options. 

"I think I miss my lovely wife, and she should see just how much her former home cares about her comfort! Don't you agree?" 

Ace shot Shane a look of barely concealed panic when she joined them, but her eyes flicked away too fast for him to do more than register his favorite shade of blue. Then her lips were curving into her bartender's smile as Negan held out a hand for her. 

"Hello, my lovely Slugger. How has your day been so far?" 

She let Negan wrap his arm around her and steer her up the street with Shane, Rick, and Daryl trailing behind them. "Unusual," she answered shortly. "And not all together pleasant." 

"Awww. Well, darlin', just look at all the things your former home has so kindly provided for your continued comfort. If the day goes as well as it has been so far, I might just let you pick something. A memento, as it were." Negan looked over his shoulder and winked at Shane, and Shane spent a few seconds indulging in a very detailed fantasy about breaking that motherfucker's nose with his fist. 

Ace didn't say anything to that, and Negan stopped and turned back to Shane and Rick. For a minute, Shane couldn't help but blink in surprise, because his expression looked almost sincere. Then he opened his mouth.

"Say, what ever happened to that sick girl? That seemed like a hell of a stressful night for her."

Shane's fist clenched as he thought about Maggie, crying and leaning on him but determined to carry Glenn to the truck herself. He forced himself back into the here and now, because Ace's eyes were fixed on his again and she was white as a sheet. 

He suddenly wondered if she even knew what had happened. From the look on her face, he'd say she didn't. 

"The way she was carrying on, she was married to number two, right?" Negan added. 

Ace jerked, and made a small sound in the back of her throat, her eyes asking Shane a thousand questions. He licked his lips and shoved his hand through his hair as Negan looked from Rick to Shane to Ace. 

"Careful, Rick. Careful how you're lookin' at me," he said slowly. 

Shane tore his eyes from Ace in time to catch Rick lowering his death stare from Negan's face to his feet. 

Negan laughed under his breath. "And don't think I didn't see that long, heartfelt glance at my wife, Shaney-boy. Now, she has been wondering just exactly what went down when we all had our little meet cute, and I have been trying to protect her from certain…gruesome details. But Ace, darling, you should have seen her. Crying and pale and sweaty. Woman looked rough." 

Ace drew in a slow breath and looked Negan in the eyes. "You're being an asshole." 

Shane jerked, but Negan tipped his whole body back and laughed, long and loud. He leaned in and kissed Ace's cheek, whispering something in her ear that had Ace's jaw tighten and her eyes close, but when Negan winked at her all she did was roll her eyes. 

"Spirit. I like 'em with spirit," Negan declared to no one in particular. "Speaking of. Widows, especially one that look like that- they are special. I love 'em. Right after their husbands go, they are just empty inside. But usually not for long!" 

Shane's lip curled as Negan half-sang the last bit, laughing suggestively. Ace rolled her eyes again, jerking away when Negan ran a finger down her cheek, and glared at him, but she didn't seem phased in the least by his little speech. 

He was suddenly incredibly grateful that Maggie was hidden away and safe, but what the fuck were they going to tell this sick motherfucker? 

"Where is she? I would love to see her!" Negan demanded.

Shane had about two seconds to come up with a plan, and he had nothing. 

"Do you care to pay your respects?" 

Negan jumped, whipping around in genuine surprise when Gabriel spoke from behind him. "Holy crap! You are creepy as shit, sneaking up on me, wearing that collar, with that freaky-ass smile." 

Shane snorted, ducking his head to hide his expression from the Saviors around, because that had been his reaction to the father when they'd first met him. Then, of course, he'd cracked a joke to Slugger about having found her a priest, and- 

He glanced over at her, and she had her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. He should have had the father marry them, he thought before he could shove it away. While he had the chance. 

"My apologies. I'm Father Gabriel." Gabriel had swallowed hard when Negan finished his rant, but his voice was rock-steady. 

Negan scoffed and turned. Shane tore his eyes from Slugger before he got her in trouble, but he could still see the devastation on her face when Negan spoke. 

"She didn't make it?" 

Rick didn't say anything, and Shane lifted one shoulder in a shrug when Negan turned questioning eyes to him. He had no fucking clue what Gabriel was up to, but he'd back the father's play. It was the only one they had, to keep Maggie and Hilltop safe. 

He hated that it meant lying to Ace, though. 

The priest had earned major points for this, Shane thought as he stood in front of three fresh graves and Negan talked incessantly. It had been some damn quick thinking. 

"I mean, this must really suck for you guys. Number one, that was on me, no question there. Lesson had to be learned. But number two? That didn't have to happen. Daryl there, he forced my hand. Probably put her right on her back, huh?" 

Shane deliberately didn't look at either Ace or Dixon. If he did, while Negan was going on like that, he'd break and tell them Maggie wasn't dead. He knew his girl and he knew her twin, and they were both going to believe Maggie was dead and it was their fault. 

Daryl for punching Negan. Ace for being in whatever position she and Merle had been in that had lead her to being on Negan's arm. The guilt was a universal Dixon trait, though both of them would have said it was a Walsh one, too. 

Since Shane knew damn well they were stuck in this position because he hadn't gone to look for Slugger and the lump when they went missing, he figured they were probably right about that. 

Negan was still going when the gunshot echoed. 

Shane tensed, his hand sliding automatically toward the gun on his hip, but he managed to stop the motion at the last possible minute. Negan's face was cold as he glared at Rick, who stared back blankly. 

"Dwight," Negan called, voice hard. "Send my wife home." 

Ace jerked and Shane's eyes narrowed. What did that mean? What was he going to- 

"She doesn't need to be here if things are going to get… messy," Negan continued, finally looking away from Rick. 

Dwight nodded, but Ace didn't move. 

"Negan, wait-" she started, reaching for him with wild fear in her eyes.

"Do not argue with me, sweetheart, or you'll lose that little deal we made," Negan snapped, rounding on her. He held her eyes as she pressed her lips together firmly, and he smiled. "That's better. Now, come here. I'll be home soon, don't you worry your pretty little head." 

Ace didn't move when Negan leaned in, brushing his lips to hers lightly before kissing her for real. She didn't flinch, didn't try to move away, didn't punch the asshole. 

Shane almost did. The only reason he didn't was Daryl's eyes locking on his, just behind his sister, and the almost imperceptible shake of his head. 

Goddamn it, Shane thought as he watched the bastard kiss his girl while she stood frozen and immobile in his arms. Goddamn it all.


	7. Lie #7: "That Could Only Be A Good Thing." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

Carl had held a Savior at gunpoint and demanded they give back the medicine they were taking. Shane had been just as panicked as Rick while Rick tried to talk him down and Negan looked at the kid like he wanted to adopt him, kill him, or maybe cook him for breakfast. Shane honestly wasn't sure and frankly he didn't care, so long as the bastard kept his distance. 

Shane stared at the mural Ace had done for Denise, the anatomy thing on the infirmary wall, until Carl handed Rick the gun and Negan took it instead. He'd wondered how long they'd keep their guns. In the Hilltop, he'd noticed the absence of them and had attributed it to running out of ammo. 

Standing in front of the pantry as the garage door slowly lifted, Shane had a feeling they'd lost all their guns to the Saviors. Like Alexandria was about to. 

"I… figured you were coming," Olivia stammered, her inventory notebook clutched to her chest. 

Rick made a vague gesture. "Show him where the guns are, Olivia." 

Shane had to admire her composure in the face of Negan's shit eating grin and stare. She nodded once, turning with her shoulders square and head held high. "The armory's inside." 

"You run the show in here?" Negan asked. 

Olivia stopped. "I.. I just keep track of it all. The rations, the guns." 

"Good. Smart. Don't let me stop you." Negan waved her on, and Shane caught the flash of relief in Olivia's eyes. "Take her out, boys. Show 'em the goods." 

Arat shoved Daryl forward, Saviors trailing after Olivia as Negan held up a hand and kept Rick and Shane in place. 

"While they're at it, I just want to point out to you two that I am not taking a scrap of your food. Slim pickings in here," Negan said dryly. "And I can't be the only one to notice that you got a fat lady in charge of keeping track of rations, can I?" 

Shane couldn't stop the eye roll, and Negan half-laughed and patted him on the shoulder. 

"Either way, you starve to death, I don't get shit, so for now, you get to keep all the food," he continued. He eyed Shane, then turned back to Rick. "How about that?" 

Rick stared at the floor somewhere off to one side of Negan, and Shane had the passing thought that Slugger would have drawn this scene as a comic, and lasers would have been coming out of Rick's eyes and scorching the floorboard. He shifted, easing closer to Rick so he could maybe stop the man if he decided to pull a stupid, but Rick spoke through gritted teeth. 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"Well, I don't know, Rick. How about a thank you? You think that might be in order?" Negan snapped, up in Rick's face. "Or is that too much to ask?" 

Shane tensed, but Rick didn't move. Negan sighed and backed off, his smile back in place. 

"I know we started off on the wrong foot, but what can I say? You forced my hand, Rick. But it's like I've been trying to tell you- I'm a very reasonable guy as long as you cooperate, so let me ask you a question, Rick. And you too, Dickhead, cause I'm not real sure you remember what the stakes are here either-" 

Shane's hands clenched and his jaw tightened. Oh, he knew exactly what was at stake, thank you very much. 

"Are you cooperating?" Negan finished after a pause. 

"What's it look like?" Shane snapped, tossing a hand in an angry move almost worthy of the Dixon clan. "Here we are, aren't we?" 

"Oh, I know what it looks like. But what I really want to know is if we're gonna find all the guns back there or if maybe you've got a few, just waitin' for their moment." Negan leaned into Rick's stony face, his eyes on Shane. "Just like my Lucille." 

Shane grabbed Rick's sleeve, just in case. "To the best of our knowledge, they're all back there." 

"That's nice and all, Shane-o, but I don't think you're the one in charge here, so I would like to hear it from Ricky. Rick?" Negan drew out Rick's name, turning to him with cheerful, expectant eyes. "Are all my guns here? Or do we three need to go have us another kind of conversation?" 

"Like Shane said," Rick said slowly. "To the best of my knowledge, they're all in there."

Daryl didn't flinch or even look like he noticed when Negan held a gun on him. Honestly, Shane got the feeling Daryl wouldn't have cared if the man pulled the trigger or not, based on the glare and the way he kept hauling guns from the armory to the truck. 

Negan held Rick's eyes and shot out a window instead. Shane crossed his arms and thanked more than a few deities that no one lived in the townhouse anymore. Negan laughed. 

"Feels good! Sounds good! Oh, I do believe Lucille is getting a little jealous. Well ho-ly smokes!" 

Shane glanced at the Savior currently leaving the armory and barely resisted the urge to shove his hand through his hair. They'd found the grenade launcher. He wasn't surprised, but shit. Negan sure as hell didn’t need more firepower. 

Negan traded the handgun for the launcher, turning excited eyes to Rick and Shane. "Look at this! It was you guys that took out Little Timmy and the Dick Brigade?" 

Shane couldn't stop the smile, but he killed it almost immediately. Almost wasn't quick enough, because Negan honed in on it and turned a considering look his way. 

"Was it you, Dickhead?" he asked. "Did you blow my people to little bits?" 

Shane shrugged and crossed his arms. "Naw." 

Negan bit at his lip and smiled, leaning in close. "Well, shit. Was it my wife? Day-um. Slugger really does fit her as well as Dickhead fits you." 

Shane's jaw ached from how tight he was clenching it, and he was fairly certain there'd be bloody marks on his palms from digging his nails into them so hard. Negan laughed again, swinging the launcher up to his shoulder and backing the fuck out of Shane's space. 

"Oh, I am gonna have some fun with this! Hell, maybe I'll let her shoot it again too. I bet that was a sight to see! Getting in your last licks! Damn!" 

Shane took advantage of his distraction with the launcher to shoot Rick a look. His brother wasn't doing to well, Shane thought, and he wondered how much longer Negan was going to keep him carrying that fucking bat. And how much longer Rick would be able to keep from swinging it at Negan's head. 

"Please, I- I don't know for-" 

All of them swung around to see Arat marching Olivia up the stairs with a hand on the back of her shirt. Olivia's face was panicked, and Shane shoved a hand through his hair as he wondered just what the fuck trouble had come their way this time. 

"Arat, we don't do that," Negan warned as Arat shoved Olivia in front of him. "Unless they do something to deserve it." 

"Yeah," Arat agreed, sounding almost bored. "We went through the inventory. Guns in the armory, guns around on the walls. They're short. Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat." 

Fuck, Shane thought. 

Negan threatened Olivia. Rick tried to talk their way out of it. Mostly Shane stayed silent and watched caused he knew for a fact the only thing that would keep Olivia alive was finding those guns. The only question was if Negan would give them the chance to. 

He leaned against the altar rail in the church and watched Rick try to be Rick. It wasn't quite right, he thought with his eyes narrowed on his brother's pale face. Rick was doing the thing. He was making the speech. But he wasn't the Rick who could do anything that Shane knew they needed. 

"I thought about hiding some of the guns. I did it before. I figured I could bury some out there. Maybe we don't touch them for years." 

"Years?" Scott demanded from the crowd. 

Shane could sympathize. Years was too fucking much. That bastard was going down, and it wasn't going to be fucking years before it happened. 

"Yeah. That's right," Rick said. "But what if the Saviors find those guns? What if we run into them while we have those guns on us?" 

Shane's opinion was that could only be a good thing, and he shifted against the railing and tried to get himself under control. They needed to find the damn guns, and here he was about to convince himself hiding them was the right way to go all along. 

"One of us dies," Rick said harshly. "Maybe more than that, maybe a lot more. It doesn't matter how many bullets we have. It isn't enough. They win. It's that black and white." 

Shane frowned at Rick as he paced back toward Shane. That didn't sound like Rick at fucking all. Not the Rick who declared war on the Governor, not the Rick who promised to kill Gareth with a specific fucking machete and then followed through. Not the Rick who had walked onto every call they took with a calm certainty that things would go their way and then made it so more times than Shane could count. Rick didn't give up. Rick didn't surrender. 

"Hiding a couple of guns isn't the answer. Not anymore," Rick pleaded. "We don't have to like it, but we need to give them over." 

"Glock 9 and .22," Shane added. He scanned the faces and knew damn well no one in this crowd had them. "That's what they're lookin' for. Someone knows where they are or they know who does."

"If we don't find them, they're going to kill Olivia." Rick's voice was edging toward desperate now. "They'll do it." 

Scott stood up, and Shane had to admit that was a surprise. "Why do they care? Two guns aren't a threat to them. But those guns could help protect us from whatever else is out there." 

"Care 'cause they have to make a point," Shane said shortly. "Do you have them?" 

"Wish I did," Scott scoffed as he sat back down. 

"Most of you weren't there," Rick said, his speech voice throbbing out in full effect. 

Shane should have been delighted. He wasn't. 

"You didn't have to watch. But you can look away now when someone else dies, or you can help solve this!" Rick pleaded. 

Shane closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

Shane stared at the blood dripping off Lucille and his mind went blank with fury. Maggie was struggling to get air in, she was crying so hard, arms wrapped around herself as she sobbed. Shane slowly drew his arm out from around her and shoved a shaking hand through his hair. 

He looked up at Negan, not hearing the laughter or the endless talking, just seeing that bastard smile and make jokes. 

He made jokes, with Glenn's- 

Negan shoved the bat into Rick's face, and the world abruptly snapped back into focus as Rick met Negan's eyes and whispered. 

"I'm going to kill you. Not today. Not tomorrow. But I'm going to kill you." 

Rick's voice held promise, sure and certain, and Shane believed in Rick absolutely. 

"With that fucking bat," he added, voice harsh. "Then I'm going to light it on fire and use it to burn your corpse, you bastard." 

Negan looked from Rick's eyes to Shane's and ran a hand over his beard. "Wow," he whispered. "That's- wow. Simon! What did he have, a knife?"

"Ringleader had a hatchet. Other one had a knife." 

"A hatchet?" Negan asked, looking up and looking fucking amused. 

"An axe." 

Negan nodded. "Simon's my right hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing. I suspect it's Dickhead over there, but- oh no. I didn't-" he clicked his tongue and made a bashing motion with the blood covered bat, and Shane flinched. "Sure. Yeah. Give me his ax." 

Negan shoved Rick's ax through his belt, turning away slightly. Then he grabbed Shane by the back of the shirt and started dragging him toward the RV. 

Shit, Shane thought. He met Rick's wide eyes and then Carl's, saying a quick goodbye to who he could. Sorry, Slugger. 

Shane glanced out the window of Spencer's house. Negan had an arm along the back of Olivia's chair, running his damn mouth like he had been all day. Daryl stood behind them both, eyes on the ground and motionless. Shane sighed and turned back to the room, trying to think like a cop. 

Where would Spencer have hidden guns? 

Rick tossed books off the bookcase, but Shane didn't think he'd be that dumb. He was a sneaky bastard, after all. Wanted everyone to believe he was better than he was. 

When the herd had surrounded the town, he'd talked people out of stealing whatever they wanted from the pantry, then he'd taken food and booze for himself. Deanna had been the one to put it back, and she'd been pissed as hell. When Eugene pointed out that not everyone was gathered in the church, Rick had looked at Shane and jerked his head. 

Shane trusted his brother's gut, but they had one shot at this and were coming up empty. 

"You really mean that shit in the church?" he asked abruptly into the silence. 

Rick paused in his less than organized ransack of the man's living room to shook Shane a look over his shoulder. "What shit?" 

"'There is no getting out of this. I'm not in charge anymore; Negan is.'" Shane's lip curled on the words as he quoted Rick back to himself, and Rick sighed and pulled his knife to slice open the chair he'd knocked over. 

"I did. Shane, you saw. You were there. And he's got-" 

Shane snorted and wandered toward the fireplace. Could have stashed the guns up the chimney a bit. That's something Shane would do, after all. "He's got the Dixons. Exactly. So, what the fuck are we gonna do about it, man?" 

Rick didn't answer, and Shane scoffed. "You serious? You gonna just let them rot over there, while we-" 

"Nothing," Gabriel cut in serenely from the doorway. 

Shane checked the chimney, turned up ash and spiderwebs and that was all, and headed back to the window. Of course there was nothing. Spencer might not even have the fucking guns. 

"Still… I just… I feel like…" 

Shane turned to give the father a what the fuck look. "Get to the point, man," he muttered. 

Gabriel ignored him. "I know this is going to work out." 

Shane scoffed and went back to staring out the window. Negan was going to kill Olivia, he thought with a tired sigh. It was just going to happen. 

"How?" Rick asked shortly. 

"We'll find the guns. We'll get through today. Then we'll find a way to go forward, how to beat this." 

"There is no beating this," Rick snarled. 

Shane leaned his forehead against the glass. "Fuck that." 

"Yes, there is," Gabriel said at the same time. "Somehow. I have faith in us. I have faith in you. Things change. You're my friend. It… wasn't always that way." 

Shane snorted again. Wasn't that a damn understatement? Rick had been more suspicious of Gabriel than Shane had, which was fucking saying something. 

"Where's Michonne?" Gabriel asked after a pause. "Could she possibly have-"

"She doesn't have anything they're lookin' for," Rick cut him off. 

Shane turned to eye him. That was some damn careful and interesting phrasing, he thought sourly. Where the hell was Michonne, and just what did she have, if it wasn't something they'd know about? He knew Rick too well to not know that had been deliberate phrasing. 

"What you did with the graves? It was quick thinking. Thank you," Rick added. 

Aaron strode up from further in the house as Gabriel smiled. "It was nice digging a grave I knew would stay empty." 

"No luck?" Aaron asked. Shane shrugged and Aaron nodded. "We searched the house. Rosita's. There's nothing. So what do we do now?" 

Shane shifted, scrubbing at his eyes and trying to think. "If they were anywhere, they'd be here." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed slowly. "Spencer's done this kind of thing before. We keep looking. Maybe today works out."

"I'll check the garage," Aaron agreed. 

"I'll look in Deanna's office again," Gabriel said, tone still so fucking serene Shane wanted to punch him. They both disappeared, and Rick looked at Shane. 

Shane shrugged. He had nothing. Rick closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his eyelids. 

"Ok," he said slowly. "Ok-" 

Shane shoved off the window and took a step, and the floorboard creaked. He froze, looking down at the vent in consideration. "Huh." 

Rick leaned over his shoulder as Shane pried the vent cover up and squinted down inside. He made a face, but reached a hand down in there. 

"I get bit by something, I'm punching you," he informed Rick. 

"Why?" Rick asked mildly. 

Shane grunted. "You're here." 

"Fair enough." 

He pulled out cans first, and his dislike of Spencer grew with each one. It wasn't that the asshole had a private stash. That Shane got well enough. It was just good sense, and he was kind of pissed he hadn't done it, and suddenly suspicious as fuck that the Dixons already had. It was that he had a stash, while acting like the picture of Americana and leadership. That was what pissed Shane off. 

That, he thought as he pulled out half a bottle of cheap whiskey and snorted at the label, and that he'd taken guns that were already listed in the inventory. That was just dumb. 

"At least he had the fucking sense to protect them," he said to Rick when he pulled out the cloth bag. Rick opened it up, glanced inside and nodded. 

"It's gonna be ok, brother," Rick whispered. He shoved to his feet and headed for the door, leaving Shane on the floor with the cans and the booze. 

Shane grabbed the bottle of booze and shoved it back into the vent. He'd get it later. "Sure it is," he muttered, and followed Rick out the door.


	8. Lie #8: "I Know What I'm Doing!" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> references to past domestic violence/abuse

You kept your shit together while being driven back. Dave and John were sent with you, and they talked and laughed and celebrated while you stared straight ahead and did your best not to think about a damn thing. 

You were good at not thinking, once upon a time. You were getting unnervingly good at it again. 

Tears burned in your eyes and the back of your throat when the Sanctuary came into view, but you swallowed hard and forced them away. You wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction of knowing how much leaving Alexandria- leaving Shane- behind had hurt. Not these two assholes, not any of the others, and certainly not Negan himself. 

Abraham. Glenn. Oh, goddamn it, Maggie, you thought, and almost lost the battle against the tears. You dug your nails into your palms and breathed carefully through your nose until your eyes cleared, and made a mental note to apologize to your brother if you ever got the chance to speak to him again. 

Pain helped, it seemed. Maybe he wasn't being ridiculous with the cigarettes when Beth died after all. 

'Fake it till you make it' carried you upstairs and into the wives' quarters, and you went straight for the bar. You needed a damn drink something awful. 

Your hand shook when you grabbed the decanter, and you set it back down without pouring a glass. You stared into the warm honey-brown whiskey instead, and wished like hell it was absolute shit moonshine, in a plastic pitcher in the kitchen in Alexandria, with Daryl and Merle and Shane all grumping at each other behind you and Judith giggling at their antics. 

Judith. 

You dashed away the tear that slipped out, shoving away from the bar to head to your room, and of course Sherry was there. You wondered absently if you really hated her, or if you hated that you were here, the same as she was. You couldn't lift your lip and sneer, because you really were the same. 

Both of you had sold yourselves over to the devil for someone you cared about. High class whores, you thought, even as you lifted an eyebrow at her and sneered anyway. Well, guess Will had been right about you all along. 

"What do you want?" you asked, bitchier than intended because thinking about Will made you that way. 

She looked sympathetic, and you hated it. You didn't want her fucking pity. 

"I'm sorry. I know today must have been-" 

"You don't know shit," you interrupted her bluntly. You turned back to the bar, pouring a glass and swirling it. "I'm fine." 

"If you were fine, you might actually be drinking that." 

You raised the glass to your lips and took a small, deliberate sip while she held your eyes. 

She shook her head and stepped closer. "Look, I get it. I look at- at his face nearly every day, and-" 

You turned and set the glass back down on the bar, movements careful and precise and reminding you so much of Mal right before he hit you that it made your stomach roll. You were so goddamn tired, you thought abruptly. Exhaustion came in a numbing wave, and all you wanted- suddenly, desperately- was your bed. 

Oblivion. Yeah, that sounded good. 

"You don't get anything, Sherry. Tina died because she was stupid. You and Dwight came back. Instead of letting us help you, you came back here. This? You? That's on your shoulders. It is not the same. Abraham was a good man," you hissed, the tears welling up again. "He was trying to save this fucked up hellhole of a rock we live on. Glenn- I've known Glenn since the beginning. I've fought by his side, starved with him, been through hell and back with him, and he's gone now. Just gone, because this fucking asshole you came back to and spread your legs for didn't like how my family acted. And Maggie-" 

You shook your head, dashing the tears away. Sherry looked like she wanted to speak, but you cut her off before she could. "Maggie was pregnant. With Glenn's baby. And seeing him beat to death in front of her killed her and their child. A whole family, wiped out, for the man you chose to come back to. My brother's beaten to shit. He's terrorizing everyone I know and love right now. For all I know, more people are going to die. And for what? I did this, I am here, for what?" 

"For Merle." 

"Shut the fuck up," you said, tone deadly and cold. It wasn't even Dixon temper. It was numbness, spreading from your core and driving everything out. All thought, all feeling. You needed sleep. "I'm not talking about Merle." 

Sherry shifted to block your path as you went to brush past her. "I'm trying to do something here. I'm keeping these girls safe. Making things as good as they can be. I need your help. He likes you. You have attitude." 

You stared at her in silence until she tossed her hands up with a sigh. She stalked over to the bar and snatched up the drink you'd abandoned as you once again started for your room. 

"Ace." 

You stopped but didn't turn. 

"We both spread our legs for him, so don't think you're any better than I am." 

You flipped her off and kept walking without a word. 

Merle was mumbling in his sleep. Honestly, you weren't even sure he was asleep and not passed out. It had been bad before, but another day on that leg, out there on the fence, and he'd had a pinched look to his eyes as he staggered for the bed and fell heavily onto it. 

He hadn't woken up since, and he was burning up. 

You hated to leave him, but you had to do something, right? You grabbed Alice's sleeve as she passed, chewing on your thumbnail. "Hey. Can you keep an eye on him? Make sure everyone leaves him alone?" 

"Ace-" Alice started, her eyes lingering on Merle. "Ace, he needs medicine." 

"I know. I have a plan. I'm going to see Doc Carson." 

Alice shook her head. "You don't have the points." 

You flashed her a confident smile and shrugged. "I'll work something out with the doc. I've got this. Just don't let anyone fuck with him, ok?" 

"Ace-"

You were already heading for the stairs. "I know what I'm doing!" 

You had no idea what you were doing. 

"It's bad, Doc. He's got double infections. If we don't get him some antibiotics, he could- he could die," you whispered, lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. 

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "I was worried about infection. The thing is though, Ace, you're both behind on points already. There's nothing I can do." 

You stared at him, chewing on your thumbnail again. He frowned, looking like was about to say something, but you turned on your heel and left without a word. 

Doc Carson had been your best bet, you thought grimly. You'd thought maybe he'd let you work something out between you and him, but that had been dead in the water before it had even begun. What the fuck were you going to do? 

Merle needed medicine. You needed something to bargain with. You couldn't work any harder than you already were, and you couldn't get out with Merle sick. 

Out of options. You sank down to sit on a step, tears trickling down your cheeks. You swiped at them angrily, knowing you had to get yourself under control before you went back to your brother. He needed you strong. 

He needed antibiotics. Fuck Negan and his goddamn points. Anger boiled up through the despair, the black Dixon temper that got you in trouble crashing over you like a wave. Merle was not going to die here. Not if you could do something about it. 

And you could do something. You had a play, one play, and you never in a million years thought you'd be doing it, but here you were. Whatever it took, you swore viciously. Dickhead would forgive you. Eventually. 

You paced while you waited for Sherry. It took longer than you thought it should have, but she was predictable. The door closed a few levels up, heels clicked on the stairs, and she appeared in a little black dress, hair done up neatly and cigarette already between her lips. She flicked the lighter, one hip cocked, as she studied you. 

"What do you want?" 

You shoved a hand through your hair. The anger had faded, but the conviction had remained. You had to keep your brother alive. This was the only choice, and you knew it. 

Once Merle was treated, once Merle was better, you'd escape. Shane would understand. He knew. He knew you'd do anything for your brothers, and he got it. After all, he'd told you after Mal, right? Whatever it took.

A small voice whispered that he wouldn't forgive you for this. Mal had forced you. This was a choice.

It was the only choice, you reminded yourself, and swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. "I need to talk to Negan." 

Sherry blew smoke, staring at you without a word. 

You closed the door to your room and slid down to sit with your back against it, legs finally giving out completely. 

Shane. Abraham, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl's face and eyes that wouldn't meet anyone's and- Shane. 

Oh, god, Shane. He'd looked at you like his whole world had been ripped apart, and the sight of you was sunrise in the dark. If he knew- 

The tears started, great hiccuping sobs you couldn't control as you pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your hands. You cried for everything, it felt like, that had happened since the world ended. Maybe for everything that had come before as well, Will and Mal and your mom and Jason and Ellie and Ben and Maria and Julie and all those missed opportunities with your Dickhead and your brothers- everything that you loved and everything that you hated and everything that you missed was coming out at once. 

Hopefully when it was done, it would leave you empty and numb. You liked being numb here. It made it easier. 

And since after today, you knew there was no getting out, no being rescued and no rescuing yourself-

Well.

It'd been slammed tonight, and you were exhausted but satisfied. Crazy nights were a rush. The last of the stragglers were trickling out the door, and you and Jason had already broken down most of the bar. You headed toward the jukebox when Mara tossed her hair and waved goodbye, ready to put on your playlist and get the rest of this shit done. It was end of the week, so there was extra work to do- mop, soak the nozzles on the taps and the soda machine, changing kegs, doing the weekly inventory, which was even more in depth than the usual nightly sheets. 

Jason groaned. "Don't put that pop bullshit on tonight, girl. I'm too tired for Taylor's overly-perky happiness." 

You rolled your eyes and punched buttons, pulling it up anyway. "Every day you say this. What do I say, Jase?" 

"'Last call makes liars out of everyone?'" 

You snorted and pointed at him as- oh, wasn't that ironic- Taylor Swift's upbeat voice started singing. "You're not wrong, but not what I meant. Senior bartender picks the music. You know this." 

"You were hired a week before me," he complained. He pulled his hair down from the bun on top of his head and ran his fingers through it with a groan. "That's hardly senior. God, even my hair hurts after that one. Was it just me or were people particularly bitchy tonight?" 

You started wiping down chairs and flipping them up. "You're not wrong. What was up with that?" 

"Maybe they all knew about your taste in music," he muttered. 

You flashed him a grin and rolled your eyes, then tried not to wince when you almost dropped the chair and banged it on a half-healed bruise. He always complained, but two chairs later you heard him humming along. You fell into your usual rhythm, not needing to talk to each other to trade tasks. Shane said- 

People said you two were telepathic, but it was just years of working together. You were friends, maybe even family. Hell, you were closer to Jason than your brothers, you thought sourly. 

"So Merle called and wanted me to come bail his ass out of jail ten minutes before I needed to be here," you said abruptly. 

Jason glanced over, leaning on the mop for a minute. "You haven't seen them in months. Have you heard from Daryl since…" 

He trailed off, looking vaguely guilty. You rolled your eyes and dumped the last of the nozzles into the bleach. Five months. Wasn't that enough for people to get back to normal? To stop looking all concerned when Mal or the incident came up? Damn it.

"I haven't heard from either of them in a while, no," you said mildly. 

"You should get together with them soon," Jason called over his shoulder, wheeling the mop back toward the workroom. 

You glanced around, working through your mental checklist. Were you done? Yeah. You were done, you thought. Sweet. You grabbed the tequila and two shot glasses and hopped up to sit cross legged on the bar. When Jason came back in the room, you held out a glass without looking over your shoulder. 

"I'll call after I catch a few hours of sleep. Make sure Merle's alive and in one piece. Drink with me." 

Jason didn't say anything until you looked at him. "Girl, it's late. Why aren't you going the fuck home?" 

You shrugged. "Music's good. I'm pumped. Let's celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" 

"Getting through the week? Come on, we haven't hung out in awhile either. Get your sexy hipster ass up here and have some tequila." 

He laughed. "Sexy? Shit, Ace. Get laid." 

You hid a grimace and waved the glass in the air temptingly. He sighed and climbed up beside you, taking it and tapping it to yours. You knocked them back at the same time, and you leaned against his shoulder with a sigh.

"You really ok, Ace?" Jason asked quietly. "I know you're tough shit, but I'm worried about you. You seem tired all the time." 

For a minute, sitting there with a good friend and music in a place you loved, you almost told him the truth. 

You didn't want to go home. Mal was there. Things were bad. They'd been bad this morning and they'd be worse when you got home. 

You were tired all the time. Tired and sad and scared and hurting. 

The music changed and you perked up, giggling as Jason groaned. "Shit, this is worse than Taylor. Bring back Taylor!" 

You kissed his cheek and grabbed the tequila bottle, holding it like a microphone and wailing along with Bonnie Tyler. "Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?" 

He groaned and shoved your shoulder, pushing you away from him. You went up to your knees on the bar, one hand held out dramatically toward him. 

"Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night, I toss and I turn, and I dream of what I need!" 

"You need to get laid," Jason muttered. "Or a therapist." 

He was cracking the fuck up at you, though, and you tossed both arms up and flung your head back. "I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero till-" 

I don't need to be rescued, no matter what you and your fucking hero complex think!

You stopped singing abruptly, the smile sliding from your face as your eyes fell on his spot at the end of the bar. You could picture him sitting there fucking laughing his ass off at you, and it hurt. It hurt so much. You set the bottle down without a word, jumping down and heading to the jukebox to cut it off. 

"Ace?" Jason's voice was soft, concerned. 

You could feel the tears burning in the back of your eyes. You did need to be rescued. And you did need his fucking hero complex. You missed Shane so fucking much, and you knew all you had to do was open your mouth and tell Jason you didn't want to go home tonight because you were scared, and he'd call Shane for you. 

And Shane would swoop in and do just that, after you'd told him you weren't friends anymore. No. You couldn't do it, damn it. You couldn't. 

But oh, god, you wanted to. 

You smiled tightly at Jason and shrugged. "Just… didn't want to listen to that one after all. Come on, it's late. We should get going. You're gonna be missed soon." 

"Ace-" Jason hesitated, sliding off the bar to put his hands on your shoulders. He looked so serious and worried. You hated worrying people.

He stared at you without speaking for long enough that you started to get uncomfortable. "Look, I know it's not my business and I should butt the hell out, mostly because you've told me it's not my business and to butt the hell out. But the thing is, honey, I love you. And you're fucking miserable. I see it in your eyes. You think you hide it, and damn you do, but I've known you a long time. Call the cop. Have coffee with him. Go see your brothers. Don't let your whole life be that fucking bastard. He hit you once. He could do it again. And if he does, please, for the love of God, called the cops. Your cop if you want, but Atlanta PD for sure." 

"J. I'm fine. I'll call Dar tomorrow. Well, later today. And I love you too," you added, trying for casual. Trying not to cry. 

Trying not to let him know that Mal had hit you this morning and would hit you again tonight, almost guaranteed. 

He sighed. "Fine. Just- think about it. Please. Come on, get your shit and let's lock up." 

He didn't let you go like you thought he would, instead pulling you into an unexpected hug. 

You hugged him back, and held on maybe a little too long. He was right. You were miserable. And you should call your brothers. Should and would, you decided when Jason finally let you go. 

You were tired of feeling alone. Hell, maybe you had been holding out for a hero, but not anymore. You were your own damn hero.


	9. Lie #9: "Doesn't Matter, Does It? What She Might Have Been." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> references to past domestic violence/abuse

Shane watched with disgust while one of those Savior bastards harassed Enid. Rick sighed when Carl looked at him. 

"They'll be gone soon," he muttered. 

Carl scoffed and stalked away. That felt about right to Shane, but he trailed along behind Rick, knowing damn well his brother was on the edge. They couldn't afford for Rick to do something dumb now. Not when Ace had been taken away again. 

They needed a plan. 

Rick handed the guns over to a smiling Negan, and Shane crossed his arms and stared at nothing. He was ready for this fucking bastard to leave. Then again, when he left, he was going back to Slugger. 

He shoved his girl out of his mind when the bastard started laughing. 

"Would you look at that? They were here after all. Funny how a little 'holy shit, somebody's gonna die!' lights a fire under everybody's ass!" 

Shane ground his teeth together and tried to send Olivia a calming look. Since she kept crying, he probably didn't succeed. 

"Tell me, Rick. Which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?" Negan asked quietly. 

Rick shrugged. "It doesn't matter." 

"No, it matters," Negan snapped. "See you need to get everybody on board. Everybody. Or… we just go right back to square one." 

Shane closed his eyes and tried not to think about how that damn bat sounded when it slammed into someone's skull.

Rick held out a beer, eyes fixed on the tv. Shane took it without looking, and Rick probably thought he was watching this damn ballgame as well. 

He wasn't. He honestly wasn't sure which fucking sport they were watching, and frankly, he didn't care. 

He cracked open the can and took a long swallow. Silence rained, and the crack of a bat on the tv was followed by the roar of a crowd and excited announcer's voice. 

So it was baseball then, he thought absently. Who gave a fuck? 

"What's on your mind, 22?" Rick asked quietly. 

Shane grunted. "Nothin'. Just watching the game." 

"Bullshit. If you were watching, you'd have been cheering that home run. Shane." 

Shane groaned and sucked down more beer, waving the can in Rick's general direction. "Fine. I came here 'cause usually I'd have been halfway to Atlanta by now." 

Rick sighed. "I kinda figured." 

"Shut up. I just didn't want to sit at home," he muttered. "I'm fine. Just- wanted some damn company." 

Rick sipped, and on the screen the crowd screamed again. Shane didn't know what was happening and didn't care, and wasn't that just the theme of his life these days. 

"Brother, have you considered that maybe she's-" 

"Don't say it," Shane warned, turning to glare at Rick. 

Rick said it anyway, stubborn bastard expression in place as he leaned forward toward Shane. "No. Maybe she's more than just a friend to you, and that's why this is hitting so hard." 

Shane glared harder, but he was never a match for that damn expression and he knew it. He sighed, emptied the rest of the beer, and added the can to the stack on the end table beside him. He shoved a hand through his hair and slouched down further on the couch. "Doesn't matter, does it? What she might have been. She ain't my friend anymore, and she's gonna get hurt. That's what matters. She's gonna get hurt." 

Rick didn’t have anything to say to that, so Shane went back to staring sightlessly at the tv. 

They were finally leaving. Shane stared at the trucks pulling out of the gates, loaded down with guns and medicine and furniture and every fucking mattress in the place, and thought about setting them on fire one by one. Saviors still inside optional, but preferred. 

Rosita and Spencer returned from wherever the hell they had been just as Negan was finally going to get in his damn vehicle and leave, and Shane eyed Spencer with irritated disgust. His opinion of Deanna's son had gone way down this afternoon, damn it. 

"Hell of a place you've got here, Rick," Negan declared. 

Shane's eyes narrowed on Rick's face when he didn't answer right away. Rick was staring at something just beyond the gates, and Shane followed his gaze to see Michonne ducking out of the window of one of the burned out houses. 

"Give me a second."

Negan turned to look, small smile on his lips. "No." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and wondered what the fuck Michonne was up to and what Rick knew about it. He thought about Rick declaring that Michonne didn't have anything the Saviors were looking for and could have groaned. She had a gun. One Rick hadn't let go into inventory. 

Rick ducked his head and Shane could hear how much the words hurt coming out. "Please. Can you just… give me a second?" 

The bastard looked far too pleased with himself when he nodded. Rick jogged over to the house, Lucille still in hand, and Negan turned to scan Alexandria again. 

"Oh, Dickhead. This really is a lovely little place," he said. 

Shane grunted. 

Negan's smile turned sly. "Not one for casual conversation, hmm? You and those Dixons. All three of 'em the same. Only one I've been able to crack so far is my lovely wife, and shit. She'll have a conversation on anything, but as soon as I ask a personal question- just to get to know her, I mean, she is my wife- she clams right up." 

Shane looked at Daryl before he thought about it. Ace's twin was looking at him, his face blank. Daryl blinked hard as Shane made eye contact and looked away almost immediately. Shane did too. He wasn't about to get Dixon in trouble. 

Negan was watching him closely, a tiny self-satisfied smile on his lips. "I saw that. You get a freebie. I did bring them up. It's human nature to look. But don't linger," he added, almost singing it. 

"Where's Merle?" Shane couldn't believe he was asking, but it spilled out before he thought. Rick was walking back up, a rifle in his hands. Michonne had a deer over her shoulders and a seriously pissed expression, and Shane met Negan's eyes as the man laughed. 

Negan turned without answering, letting out a low whistle when he caught sight of Rick and Michonne. "Look at this!" 

"I thought she was scavenging. She was hunting. This one never came inside. We kept it near the line." 

Shane's jaw tightened when Rick handed the rifle over to Negan. That was some bullshit. They didn't have guns stashed out by the line. They fucking well should have, and if they found more they damn well would now, but Rick didn't have to do this. He didn't have to hand that thing over to Negan. He could have stashed it in the house, along with the deer, and said Michonne was scavenging and didn't have any luck. 

Judging from Michonne's expression, that had been her vote as well. 

"Look at this! This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick. This is reading the room and getting the message! I've said it before, I'm gonna say it again. You sir, are special!" Negan winked at Shane as he passed the rifle off to one of his henchmen. 

"Now that you know we can follow your rules," Rick said slowly, staring at the ground. "I'd like to ask if Daryl can stay." 

Fuck, Shane thought. Rick asked about Daryl? Shane's girl had been here, on this bastard's arm, and Rick asked about Daryl? 

Not that he didn't want Dixon back. Not that he wasn't pissed as hell at what Negan had done to him, 'cause Shane fucking was. And having a Dixon back with them would make rescuing the other two and killing fucking Negan a hell of a lot easier. 

But his brother was putting a lot at risk to even ask about Daryl, damn it. And Shane's girl was back there, waiting for this bastard to go back and put his hands all over her again. 

"Not happenin'," Negan declared. Then he hesitated. "You know what? I don't know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me." 

Daryl looked at the ground, shoulders hunched and motionless. Shane's temper was rising again, that black tidal wave that lead to him doing stupid shit and getting people hurt. This bastard had done a number on Dixon.

The Daryl Shane had met in Atlanta; the Daryl he'd escaped the prison disaster with- he'd have spit in Negan's face and called him a bastard. 

Instead, he flinched when Negan laughed. 

Shane was going to kill that man. 

"Well, you tried," Negan declared. "Now what you gotta do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Because we're coming back soon, and when we do, you better have something interesting for us, or Lucille? She's gonna have her way." 

Negan turned to Shane, eyes hard. "I want you to hear that again. If you don't have something interesting for us… somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns," he added to Rick. "Arat. Grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home." 

Shane winced when Michonne dropped the deer with a thud and a hard glare at Rick, then turned and walked away. 

Negan made a dick comment to Rick that Shane tuned out. That bastard with the burned face harassed Rosita as he hopped on Daryl's bike, then paused in front of Dixon. 

"You can have it back. Just say the word." 

Shane's eyes narrowed as Daryl flinched, his eyes not leaving his feet. He took a step in Dwight the dead man's direction, but Rick grabbed his arm. Shane turned slowly to glare at Rick, who shook his head. 

"They're leaving," Rick whispered. "Let it go." 

Shane scoffed. "Yeah. They're leaving with Daryl and Ace, man." 

"So nobody died!" 

Shane wrenched his arm from Rick's hold, crossing his arms as he turned his glare Negan's way. Negan just smiled. 

"You know what I think? I think you guys and I, we've refined our understanding. Let me ask you something, Rick… Do you want me to go?" he asked. 

"I think that'd be good," Rick said after a pause, venom in his tone. 

Shane almost laughed. Almost. 

"Then just say those two magical words," Negan demanded, eyes bright and his enjoyment obvious on his face. 

Shane wondered how many times he'd want to kill this man before he actually got to do it. 

"Thank you," Rick ground out after a pause. 

Negan and his buddies laughed. "Don't be ridiculous! Thank you!" 

Shane had never been more grateful for a dead bastard to come walking up, because the look in Negan's eyes said there was going to be more and the look in Rick's said if there was, there was going to be blood. Shane thought about taking the damn bat from his brother, but he had a feeling that would only bring on more problems than it solved. 

Negan grabbed a heavy candlestick and bashed the walker's brains in, blathering on the whole time about how Alexandria needed their help and watching his form. Shane kept his eyes on Rick, leaning in when he saw the bat start to rise. 

"Slugger," he whispered. That was it, just the one word. If that didn't do it, then Shane didn't know what would. 

Rick's eyes cut to his and his grip went loose on the bat again. Shane nodded once, and Rick sniffed and looked away, nodding back. 

Negan shoved the candlestick into Shane's hand. "Clean that up for me for next time, would you, Dickhead? Alright! Let's move out!" 

Shane and Rick stood frozen as Negan brushed past them and headed for his truck. Then he laughed, and Shane closed his eyes and prayed for patience. 

"Oh, wait! How careless of me. You didn't think I was gonna leave Lucille, did you? I mean, after what she did, why would you want her?" 

Negan leaned between them while Shane thought about using the candlestick on Negan like Negan had done to the walker. But Dixon glanced up as he was pushed by, and Shane knew he wouldn't. The Dixons had to be safe first. 

Negan took the bat from Rick. "Thank you for being so accommodating, friend. In case you haven't caught on," he said into Rick's ear, "I just slipped my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it." 

He turned and winked at Shane, clapping him on the shoulder as he gestured with the bat. "Kinda like I'm gonna do with my Slugger tonight, and she's gonna say the same thing!" 

Shane was swinging. There wasn't conscious thought involved. The candlestick in his hands moved of its own damn accord, and he could see it happening as if in slow motion. 

Negan smiled at him, an evil, pleased with himself smirk. Shane was bringing the candlestick down on his head in a display of the very stupid he'd been trying so damn hard to keep from happening today. They might take Negan down, but at the very least, Rick, Shane, and Daryl were dead. And Ace would be too, when word got back to wherever they had taken her. 

Then Rick snatched the candlestick from him and set a hand on his shoulder. 

The world snapped back into real time. Negan chuckled, tossed a wink Shane's way, and climbed, finally, into his truck. 

Shane turned with Rick to watch as the bastard drive away, running over the walker as they went. The last of the Saviors followed them, Daryl in the back of the truck and staring openly at Rick and Shane as they pulled away. 

Shane held Daryl's eyes as long as he could, trying to communicate to him that they were coming. Shane, Rick, Michonne, all of them, they were coming for Daryl and Merle and Ace, and that was a promise. They were coming. Just hang in there, Dixon. And tell the others we said the same thing, he thought fiercely. 

When Daryl was out of sight, he turned to Rick and slammed his fist straight into his brother's jaw without saying a word. Rick staggered back, eyes confused, but then Rick was on him as well. 

Shane took a hit to the stomach and landed another on Rick's jaw that had his head snapping to the side. He ducked Rick's return blow, slammed one more into Rick's side for good measure, and backed off, breathing hard. 

Rick swiped a hand across his mouth, eyes not leaving Shane's. "What was that for?" 

Shane thought Rick's tone entirely too calm and reasonable, and he responded accordingly. At the top of his lungs. "If I'd gone out there to look for her, shit might have been different! Now that bastard has all three of them, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it! You know what he's doing to her. And you know what she'll do. What'll happen to her. Go right the fuck to hell, Rick." 

He turned and stalked up the road, ignoring Rosita's concerned eyes and Spencer's angry ones as he went. 

Rick didn't try to stop him.


	10. Lie #10: "He Won't Break." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> mild threat of sexual abuse

You slept for a couple of hours, right there on the floor in front of your door. When you woke up, still in the fucking Sanctuary and not home with Shane, you rubbed a hand over your eyes and considered crying some more. 

Your face already felt puffy and stiff with dried tear tracks, though. You didn't think you had the energy for more, even with the nap. 

You wondered if Negan was back. You wondered if anyone had died. 

That was it. You had to escape somehow; get out of your own brain. You swiped a hand under your eyes again, snatched up the bag always ready near the door, and headed out, flipping Sherry off again on the way, just for kicks. You made your way to the roof, your usual escape, and settled cross-legged on top of an air conditioning unit. 

You stared into the distance, at the horizon line, and wondered if this was all that was left for you. At least, when you stripped everything else away, you always had art. 

You flipped to a clean page, grabbed a pen, and let your mind go blank.

"I thought I might find you up here." 

Your concentration shattered. You blinked hard, the world around you harsh and painful as it slammed into you again with the sound of Negan's voice. 

Oh, god, you hated him. 

He chuckled as you deliberately didn't look around for him, instead frowning back down at the sketchbook in your hands. 

Your mom stared back at you. What you remembered of her anyway. It was soft, almost surreal. Vaguely impressionist, a loose sketch- lots of guidelines and very few details. You didn't really remember the details. You knew her eyes were blue, like yours and Darrie's. Then again, Will's had been blue too. 

And you remembered her voice, you thought now. She'd sung to you. 

You'd drawn her in the sunshine, sitting on the ground in front of a trailer, under a tree. The trailer had burned in the fire, along with your mom, and you remembered it only vaguely. But you remembered that tree. You remembered the way your mom had laughed when you and Daryl had brought her dandelions that day, to cheer her up. 

You remembered the bruise on her cheek and the haunted, tired look in her eyes. 

Negan strolled into sight, leaning on the brick half-wall that circled the roof. He crossed his feet at the ankles, and you could feel him studying you. 

"Did anyone else die?" you asked bluntly, finally looking up at him. 

"Now, why would you assume they did, darlin'? You know I do not kill anyone lightly." 

You sneered at him in disbelief. "Sure you don't." 

He looked genuinely surprised, and you scoffed and turned back to your drawing. You smoothed a hand over the page, wondering what might have been different in your life if your mother hadn't fallen asleep with that cigarette. Would she have left Will eventually? Would he have killed her? Would you have become just like her? 

Hell, for awhile, you had. Without Shane, without Daryl and Merle, you would have. 

"People are a goddamn resource, Slugger. I do not waste resources." 

You rolled your eyes. "You killed three of my friends. My family." 

"I killed two of them," he corrected. He was smiling at you, the bastard. He was enjoying this. 

Negan liked it when you and Sherry stood up to him. Not many people did. You had a feeling it was why he was so fixated on breaking Darrie.

He shrugged now, pushing off the wall to wander over to your perch. "I only killed number two because your brother down there in the cell? He punched me in the face." 

"Should have done it again," you muttered. "I'd like to." 

Negan laughed. "I bet you would. I might just let you, someday. It'd be fun." 

"You're a sick bastard, you know that right?" 

He winked at you and nodded at your sketchbook. "Who is that?"

You looked away and didn't say anything. You weren't going to talk to him about your past. About your mom, or your family. Not about any of it. 

He sighed when you didn't respond and ran a hand over his chin. "I gotta shave this shit. Look, honey. I know you and I are not exactly what you might call a love match. I mean, you only agreed to marry me to save your brother's life. I'm not blind. I know you love the ex-cop. Just say the word, and you can go back. After you work off what you owe me and mine." 

You flipped him off. He said that, but he didn't mean it. And if you did, there'd be consequences- the kind of consequences others paid for you. This was, god help you all, better. 

Negan chuckled. "We both know you don't mean that, and I am not some abusive asshole who doesn't give a shit, sweetheart. There are rules, remember? They exist for a reason." 

You looked at him as he stepped in front of you, a smile that you couldn't tell was real or fake on his lips and a strange light in his eyes. "Maybe," you said slowly. "But Sherry was right." 

"About what?"

Oh, yeah. The smile was real. He liked you, damn it. You really hated that. 

You shrugged. "Your rules are batshit." 

He threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. When he got himself under control again, he tucked hair behind your ear and tipped your face toward his with a finger under your chin. He leaned in, his eyes on your lips, and you stayed still and kept your expression bored. 

"Sometimes," he agreed. "Sometimes, they are. But they work. I save people. Your friends are safe, Slugger. For now," he added in a sing-song whisper, and brushed his lips to yours. 

You kept half an eye on Merle as you mopped. He worked with you, but you could read the tightness in his eyes and around his mouth. He was hurting, damn it. He shouldn't have been working. 

But if he didn’t work, he couldn't get treated. You needed points, you thought bitterly. 

You needed to get the fuck out of here, is what you needed. 

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" 

You didn't bother to look up, knowing an asshole tone when you heard one. You'd been here all of a day and you'd figured out the best way to deal was to ignore anything and everything you possibly could. 

A dirty boot stepped on your mop. You sighed and finally took your eyes from the floor to glare at the owner of the boot instead. 

You'd been right. He was an asshole. 

He smirked at you, a familiar look in his eyes that you'd gotten more than a few times in the Lullaby. He was one of those types who thought he was god's gift to women, you thought sourly. You'd decked a couple of assholes like him. You looked forward to decking him. 

"Hello, sugar," he said with a leer. "What's your name?" 

You did your best blank stare. He just laughed. 

"Hard to get, huh? Well, you see, you- you work for points. Me? I can make your life better. If you do something for me in return. I can get you points for sucking my-" 

You hauled off an decked him. One punch, dead to the nose, when he hooked his fingers in the neck of your tank and pulled. You didn't care what sort of bullshit system they had here. He could keep his grabby little bastard hands the fuck to himself. 

"Oh my god! You broke my fucking nose!" The douchebag pulled his hands from his nose, looking at the blood on them. 

"Don't touch me," you said calmly, and started mopping again. 

"Oh, I'll do more than-" 

Whistling filled the hall, and both the asshole and his buddy- laughing his ass off so far, but not a threat- hit their knees. You watched from the corner of your eye as Merle slowly did the same, and you knelt when he was down. 

Negan strolled around the corner. "What's going on here, Steve? Do we have a problem?" 

The bastard with the bloody nose swallowed hard. "No, sir. Just a difference of opinion." 

"Well, then, you'd best take your opinion on down to Doc Carson. Get that thing set so it don't heal all sideways," Negan said, something about his tone making you think he knew exactly what had gone down. 

Considering he'd asked you if you'd care for a roll in the hay within two seconds of meeting him, you didn't figure he'd care much. 

Steve and his buddy got up and hurried back the way they came, Steve looking vaguely terrified. He shot you a look as they went, and you wondered if you'd just made yourself an enemy. Fucking hell, you thought. Like you needed something else to worry about. 

"Now, here's the thing. I overheard most of that little exchange there, and I can assure you, that is not how we operate around here. I imagine you might get the wrong impression, what with my offer when we met yesterday. I've been told, darlin', that's it not appropriate to say things like that on a first date," Negan said, gesturing you and Merle to your feet and tipping you a wink. "There are rules, and if one of my boys- or girls- break those rules, they will be punished. I have something for you, sweetheart. Don't worry. They're free." 

He handed you a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and you blinked from them to him in confusion. 

"My little apology, for my lack of manners earlier- and Steve's just now. But the way, that is a damn good punch. If you ever change your mind on my offer, well." He winked and laughed at the look on your face, then strolled on down the hall, swinging his bat to his shoulder and whistling. 

You frowned at the cigarettes and looked at Merle. "What the fuck?" 

"Damn if I know , baby sis. But that jackass is right. Was a damn good punch," Merle said with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved the cigarettes in your pocket. "Shut up and mop the fucking floor." 

You wandered out of the wives' quarters at midnight. Sherry glanced up from her book and raised an eyebrow at you, but you ignored her completely. 

Fun thing about being one of Negan's wives was, you were generally left unsupervised. Mostly because every Savior in the place kept an eye on you. 

You knew it was dumb, but you went to the cell. It was a closet, really. On the same floor as Dwight and most of the other mid to high level Saviors, it wasn't unreasonable for you to be here, you justified to yourself as you glanced around the empty hallway nervously. 

Except that the cell's current occupant was your twin brother, and you knew you wouldn't be allowed to get close. 

You went anyway. You hadn’t come down here yet, not wanting to know what was happening to him. You'd seen him around, and Negan had been sure to give you updates- like when he'd tried to get Darrie to sign up as a Savior and Darrie had basically told him to go to hell. Like the fake escape opportunity before that. Like the beating Darrie had taken as a result. 

You bit down hard on the tip of your tongue to drive back tears, leaning against the wall around the corner from the cell. Fat Joey was on guard just across from it, plopped in a chair and eating a damn sandwich, and the last thing you wanted was to interact with him right now. 

You could hear the music from here, some bright pop song at a decibel so loud you couldn't hear yourself think. God, Darrie, you thought. You almost wished he would just declare himself Negan so he could get out of there. He had to be going nuts by now, from the pain and the sleep deprivation and god only knew what else. 

You didn't like the way he'd been refusing to meet anyone's eyes. 

"What are you doin' down here?" 

Dwight's voice was soft and curious, and you opened your eyes. He wore your brother's vest, and you seriously contemplated stabbing him in the base of the neck just for that. You hated him. You hated him so much. 

"We could have helped you," you said slowly. It wasn't the first time you'd said it to him, and fuck knew it wouldn't be the last. "But you chose this instead. I guess you're happy now, right? Trying to break my brother. He won't break." 

Dwight sighed and shifted, leaning against the wall beside you. "Would it help to know I'm not happy? He will break. Everyone breaks. He needs to accept what's coming, before it gets too much worse." 

"It gets worse that this?" 

Dwight scoffed, his eyes serious as he looked at you. "You know it does." 

"Yeah," you said softly. "It does. Look. I hate you. That hasn't changed, and won't. But... Is there anything I can do, anything at all, to get you to turn that music off and let him sleep? Just for the night." 

Dwight looked surprised, like that was the last thing he'd expected. Shit, it probably was. You didn't negotiate with him, or anyone other than Negan. You didn't talk to D unless you fucking had to, and then it was only to exchange insults. 

But this was Darrie. You couldn't save him; couldn't get him out. But if you could make even one hour a little less miserable for him- 

You'd do whatever it took. You'd already done the unthinkable and married Negan. You had nothing left to lose. 

"Well," D said slowly. "There is one thing…" 

You wandered around for a few hours, ending up on the roof again to sketch some more. It wouldn't do to go down to the cell and then go straight back up. It might look like- 

Well, it might look like exactly what it was- you'd worked out a deal to get your brother some sleep. 

When you finally let yourself back in, it was around four am. No one was stirring, and you dropped off your art bag at your room and contemplated just skipping it all together. You'd gotten what you wanted. You didn’t have to do what D had asked. 

You grimaced at yourself even as you slipped back out and knocked softly on Sherry's door. You couldn't be like that. You couldn't go back on your word. You'd do as you'd agreed. 

Sherry opened the door, looking annoyed and groggy. "What the hell, Ace?" 

That was fair, you thought. You jerked your chin toward her room. "Let me in." 

"No. Why?" 

You stared at her, eyes blank. Finally she groaned and stepped out of the doorway, gesturing you in. She closed the door and crossed her arms, glaring hard. 

"What do you want?" 

"I'm passing on a message, and it shouldn't be overheard. Dwight says to tell you-"

"Stop." Sherry's voice was sharp. "What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get all three of us killed?" 

You scoffed. "No. I'm trying to do what I said I would do, damn it. I made a deal to-" 

"Seriously? Stop," she hissed. "I don't want to know. Do it again, and we all go down. Now go to bed, Ace." 

Fucking fine, you thought, rolling your eyes as she opened her door again. She didn't want the message, there was nothing you could do. You'd done your part. And Darrie got to sleep tonight. 

Worth the risk.


	11. Lie #11: "Hope Was A Fucking Bastard." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon-typical violence  
> PTSD dreams  
> mentions of past child abuse  
> mentions of past domestic violence

Mal's fist slammed into Daryl's battered face and you screamed for him to stop it, stop it, just fucking stop. Why wouldn't he leave you alone? 

He turned, laughing, and half his face was missing where you'd shot him, up through the cheekbone at an awkward angle while his hand was around your throat. Confusion froze your feet in place, because with that bullet through the brain Mal shouldn't have been a walker, right? 

"You're mine, Slugger. You've always been mine, and you always will be," he said. His lips didn't move, but his face changed horror-movie style into something else, something different. 

It was Shane, but Shane the way you'd painted him in that one mural you'd die before admitting was him; Shane as a walker with sunken blank eyes staring into yours under his police hat. "Why'd you do it, sweetheart?" 

"I didn't have a choice, Dickhead," you pleaded through the tears. "It was- it was for Merle, and- Whatever it takes, right? Right?" 

"Not that," zombie Shane said, disgust written all over his face. "Guess your daddy was right all along. Only good for a good fuck, huh, Slugger?" 

"Don't say that," you whispered, wishing you could close your eyes so you didn't have to see that look in his. Walker or not, dead or not, that was your Dickhead, and you couldn't- you couldn't. Even if you deserved it. "Not you." 

"Why not me? Everyone else does, and you fucked me over just as surely, and for what? Your piece of shit brother who don't know how to stay sober? Look where that got ya, my little Ace in the hole!" This wasn't right; you knew it wasn't right, but-

You stifled the cry as your back exploded in Technicolor pain, the scar cracking open and taking half your spine with it. "Please," you mumbled brokenly. "Please. Don't hurt Darrie. Don't hit me. I can't take it anymore; I can't." 

"Well, what choice do you have? Except to wake up. Hey, sweetheart, wake up." 

Just like that you were awake, the freeze instinct you hated so damn much taking over against your will. You cracked your eyes open, trying to figure out where exactly you were before advertising that you were awake. You weren't alone; you could feel it. 

"You ok?" 

Oh, god. You almost preferred the nightmare, you thought. You sat up and ran a shaking hand through your hair, giving up on pretending. Negan was an observant motherfucker. He'd have noted the change to your breathing or some shit the minute you were truly awake. 

You were alone in his bed, and you grimaced, still not sure why he'd insisted you sleep in his rooms the night before. As usual, you'd flat refused to fuck him. As usual, despite your expectations to the contrary, he hadn't done it anyway. 

He confused the shit out of you, if you were being honest. You were relatively certain that was the whole idea. 

He was on the couch already, a clipboard in his hands. Judging from the white tee and jeans and the remains of breakfast near him on the table, it was clear he'd been up for a bit. Minus the jacket and the goddamn bat, you could almost forget who he was. Especially when he looked at you with sincerity in his eyes. 

"Seemed like a goddamn shitshow over there," he said quietly, tossing the clipboard down onto the table and standing up. He grabbed a mug from the table and sipped, eyes not leaving yours. "Wanna talk about it?" 

"Go to hell," you muttered, flopping onto your back. You were tired all the damn time, it seemed. Even when you'd slept. And vaguely nauseated. You weren't eating enough, if you had to guess. "Got any coffee?" 

"You don't like coffee." 

"I like caffeine," you shot back, but he was right. 

You closed your eyes as he moved around the room, not bothering to track his movements. If he wanted something, he'd tell you. 

He tapped a glass against your hand and your fingers wrapped around it automatically, even as you opened your eyes to frown up at him. "This isn't coffee." 

"Nope. Juice. You don't eat enough, and you look pale," he said with a shrug. 

You sipped the orange juice- too damn much pulp for your taste, but holy crap this was fresh- and eyed him. He talked different when he wasn't trying to put on a show. In front of people, it was all cocky self-confidence and showboating, and he did enough of that when alone with you as well. But sometimes- like now, as he scratched his chin and studied you right back- he dropped the bullshit and just talked like a normal person. "Why are you being nice? You're an asshole." 

He grinned, sharp and predatory. "That I am. Who hit you?" 

You choked on the sip of juice, scrambling all the way out of the bed and to your feet as you coughed. Negan backed out of your way, amusement and something else in his eyes as you struggled to breathe. You glared at him. 

"What makes you think someone has?" 

He shrugged. "That scar on your back is old. And you were talking in your sleep." 

"Fuck," you whispered. You shoved a hand through your hair and groaned. "What did I say?" 

"You were begging someone not to hurt you or your brother. Seriously, sweetheart, who the hell thought they could take a hand to you and get away with it?" 

You turned away from him, mouth dry and eyes filling. "No one. I told you, I'm not talking about the past." 

"Have it your way," he said after a pause. "Don't worry. No one here will lay a finger on your pretty little head. Not even me," he added in your ear as he moved around you to where his jacket hung over a chair. 

You glared harder as he shrugged into it and the asshole expression you were so much more used to than the genuine one settled into his eyes. "Oh, I know you won't. I'd drop you if you tried." 

"That's why you're my Slugger," Negan said cheerfully, and you knew he saw the way you flinched. "The blue suits you, just like you said. Glad I had them grab it. Head on back to your room when you finish your juice, sweetheart. I've gotta get busy." 

He kissed your cheek and strolled out, grabbing Lucille from beside the door and whistling as he went.

You lingered in Negan's room for no other reason than it wasn't yours and made a pleasant change of scenery when he wasn't in it. Why was he being nice to you? That's what you couldn't figure out, and more than the vague threats and Lucille and all the asshole drama, Negan being nice scared the fuck out of you.

Mal used to be nice. And then he wasn't. 

You tried to shut that thought down, because somehow, you believed him when he said he wouldn't hit you. After all, he didn't force you to sleep with him, and he damn well could have. You glanced at the tangled sheets on his bed as you sipped your juice. Ok, fine. He'd forced you to sleep with him, but he didn't force you to fuck him. 

Instead, he brought you hair dye and new art supplies. You had no fucking clue where he was finding this shit, but you had charcoal and pastels and watercolors again. Your hair was blue, as of last night. 

It hurt. The blue was Shane's favorite. You wondered if Negan knew that somehow, though you refused to talk about anything about the past now. You'd made that mistake once, and he'd used everything you'd told him against your friends, your family. You'd made a promise to yourself that you'd never give him ammunition again. 

He brought you juice and asked about a nightmare. 

What the hell was that bastard up to? You snarled down into the now-empty glass, and suddenly you couldn't stand to be in this room a single damn minute longer. You left the glass on the table, collected your art bag, and left the door open when you left. Petty rebellion was all you had to work with these days. Luckily you'd always been pretty good at being a passive aggressive bitch. 

Two hours later you were bored and restless again, wandering around looking for something to do. You knew you'd end up on the roof. You always ended up on the roof. It was the only place you felt slightly free here. 

But you had to put that image, the walker version of your Dickhead that you'd created in a fit of temper and heartache, out of your mind first, so you were looking for a distraction. 

Dwight came around the corner, eyes hard and one hand gripping Daryl's sleeve. 

You froze, because Darrie looked up and met your eyes with temper sparking in his, and you would have sworn, under different circumstances, that you saw him smile a little as he glanced you over. Just a flash. 

"What are you doing- Ace. You need to get upstairs, now," Dwight hissed. He looked fucking pissed at the world. 

You didn't care. You lifted an eyebrow at him. "Why?" 

"Get upstairs, get changed. Ask Sherry. You're gonna be needed at the furnace." 

That left you with more questions than answers, and you shifted to block him from trying to leave with your brother. "What the fuck, D? Darrie, are you ok?" 

Dwight glared and shoved past you. "You know you can't talk to him. Just go, or there'll be hell to pay." 

You stared after them, wondering just what the fuck was going on, but shit. Sherry would probably have answers, even if she was a bitch. 

Something had happened. Darrie was pissed, and something in the way he looked at you had stirred the last, tiny spark of hope to life. You did your best to smother it again, but… 

He'd met your eyes and held them. And he'd looked so fucking pissed. 

And when Dixons got pissed, shit happened. 

Upstairs, your confusion only grew. You let out a low whistle as you glanced around the lounge, because everyone was present and everyone was dressed in little black dresses and looked positively fucking grim. 

"There a funeral I don't know about?" you muttered as Sherry broke away from a small knot on the far side of the room to come striding your way. Amber was in the middle of it, actually crying this time. 

You gestured vaguely as Sherry reached you. "D sent me up here, told me to change? The fuck's-" 

"Your dress is on your bed," Sherry said quietly, grabbing your elbow and hauling you toward the hall. "You need to change, brush your hair, whatever. Just put on the dress and the shoes and brace yourself." 

"The fuck is going on?" 

She sighed, glanced at Amber, and leaned in closer to you. "Amber fucked up, that's what. She and Mark, and well. He's not going to be happy when he gets here. Just change. Don't make it worse." 

"Oh, shit," you breathed, looking back at Amber. Sherry was right; this wasn't going to be good. 

"Yeah," Sherry agreed. 

You were absolutely seething. It was a fucking backless dress, and your shoulders were tight and uncomfortable as you strode back into the lounge to give Sherry a taste of the fucking Dixon temper. You didn't wear backless shit, goddamn it, and if Negan wanted your scar on display for some perverse reason, he could take a flying leap off the roof. You'd be happy to assist him with that. 

You froze. "Carl?" 

Negan stood just inside the doorway, Carl at his side looking a mix of disgusted, terrified, and unbothered by anything. You adored that kid, a voice in the back of your mind said. The rest of it was busy panicking over why the fuck he was here. What did this mean? 

Negan laughed as Carl looked at you and his eye widened. Somehow your feet started moving again, and you crossed the room in a blink. 

This was what had happened. This was why Darrie looked so fucking pissed. Carl was here, and Daryl knew it.

"What is he-" 

"Not now, sweetheart. I'm talking to the kid," Negan cut you off casually. He leaned in close to Carl, his eyes on yours and that fucking smirk on his lips that made you want to clock him one, square on the jaw. "Every woman where you're from dresses like they do the books at an auto shop. You're gonna want to look at their titties. It's cool. I won't mind. They won't mind. Knock yourself out." 

You rolled your eyes and lifted one lip at him in a sneer. He winked at you, patted a disgusted Carl on the back, and ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. 

"I'll let you talk to the kid for a minute, Slugger. But be warned- no funny business. Either of you," he said, shooting a look between you and Carl. Then he turned his attention to the rest of the room. "Can I talk to you for a minute, dear wife?" 

You figured he was talking to Sherry, but you honestly didn't give a shit as he strolled off. Carl was here and you actually had a chance to talk to him. Maybe you could get some news from home. 

Hope was a fucking bastard, you thought grimly. 

"Carl, what the hell are you doing here?" you hissed. "What happened?" 

Carl was staring around the room, confusion written all over his face. "Ace, what is this?" 

"The harem," you said bluntly. "Kid, come on. What's going on at home?" 

He shook himself, snapping out of it with obvious difficulty. He finally looked at you properly, and you could feel your eyes swimming. 

"Hey, kid," you whispered. 

"Hey, Aunt Ace," he whispered back. "Uncle Shane misses you." 

You swallowed hard and shook your head. "Don't. Not here. I can't. Come on, tell me why the fuck you're here."

He looked vaguely mutinous, but he nodded. "I hid in the back of one of their trucks that went to the Sanctuary. Stole a gun and killed like three of them before they took me down." 

"Holy fucking shit, Carl!" 

He grimaced. "Yeah. I could have taken Negan down." 

"You could have gotten yourself fucking killed," you hissed, furious that he would take the risk. "What the hell. Where's your dad? Where's Di - where's Shane? Who the hell let you out on your own?" 

"I snuck out. It was all my idea. Dad and Uncle Shane are out looking for shit for him. They're not even trying to fight back!" 

You glared harder. "Good. There is no fighting. Negan's- well, look around. He's inevitable." 

Carl scoffed and tossed his head. "No. We're getting you out of here. All of you. Where's Merle?" 

Someone sucked all the air from your lungs, and you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked away. 

You ignored the Savior eyeing you and knocked on the doctor's door. Your new status meant you were largely unbothered, as long as you didn't do anything stupid like try to leave or go find an armory. 

You swallowed against your rolling stomach and pushed aside thoughts of just what exactly your new status was, and what it meant you'd done last night. You couldn't think about it or you'd hurl again, or maybe start crying, and you were here for Merle. You had to be strong. He needed you to be strong. 

It was all for him. Once he was treated and was better, you'd get the hell out of here and- 

The doctor opened the door. He hesitated when he saw you, and you felt something cold start seeping in. 

"Hey, doc. How is he?" you asked, and even you heard the dullness in your own voice. 

Doc Carson's eyes swept you, pity in them, and he opened the door wider. "Come inside. You look pale. Are you feeling well?" 

You went in and turned automatically toward where your brother had been the night before, sweating and pale and pissed as hell at you for what you'd agreed to. You'd rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek, and reminded him that there was nothing Dixons wouldn't do for each other. 

"We're all we've got, right, big brother?" you'd whispered. 

He'd glared harder. "An' it's my job to take care of you, lil sis. Not the other way around." 

You'd rolled your eyes and ignored him. 

He wasn't there now. You whirled back to the doctor, getting up in his face. "Where the hell is my brother?"


	12. Lie #12: "Like He'd Ever Managed To Change Rick Grimes' Mind About Anything." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

Shane buried his face in his daughter's neck and pretended to munch on her. Her peals of laughter made him smile despite the burning feeling behind his eyes, and he rubbed his nose to hers as she giggled harder. Judith was the only reason he was still walking and talking and functioning, he thought tiredly. Judy and Carl, anyway. 

"Wish you'd come with us," he said to the kid. 

Carl leaned against the truck, arms crossed and face mutinous under Rick's hat. It was missing a chunk from the brim, Shane noticed. He wondered when that had happened. 

Shit, he'd laughed his ass off at Rick the first time he'd worn that damn thing. Shane had opted for a ball cap, every time. Rick walked around with that fucking hat like it was his pride and joy. 

Carl's shrug was eloquent in it's simplicity. Shane snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Why are you pissed at the world, kid?" 

"Why am I- Uncle Shane, seriously?"

Shane pretended to gobble up Judy's fingers when she shoved them into his face. "We could use the help. You're a badass, kid." 

"I can't aim for shit. Someone needs to watch Judith. And we need to be getting ready to fight," Carl snapped. "Not out there looking for more shit to just hand over to them. Dad is wrong." 

Shane sighed and pressed his forehead to his baby girl's. He kissed her cheek, whispered 'I love you', and passed her over to Carl. The kid took her automatically, and Judy started pulling on his hair. Shane wasn't sure Carl even noticed. 

"Your dad is not wrong," he said slowly. He wasn't sure he agreed with what he was saying, but the thing was, they couldn't fight. Not yet. "As long as Negan has the Dixons, we can't do anything. And we've got nothing, anyway. No guns, no ammo." 

"So we should be out looking for that!" 

"And we will," Shane said patiently. "In the mean time, we have to find shit to keep them happy, too. Or we just go from bad to worse. Kid, I want them back. He's got- I want them back. But we gotta be smart about it." 

"Is that what Dad's doing? Because from where I am, it looks like he's just given up," Carl said. He shifted Judith to his hip and hugged Shane quickly. As he pulled away, Carl looked so serious and so grown up that Shane's heart fucking hurt. "Good luck. Be safe. Try to change Dad's mind. If anyone can, it's you." 

Shane scrubbed at the back of his head. Like he'd ever managed to change Rick Grimes' mind about anything. 

Shane went from dead asleep to crouched, eyes wide and staring in dim lantern light, with his machete clutched in his hand and the ghost of a scream dying somewhere in the back of his throat. He dropped to lean back against the truck wall, tossing the machete down with a clang and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

Rick and Aaron politely pretended they didn't notice. 

"What time is it?" Aaron asked groggily. 

Shane didn't give a flying fuck. He wasn't going back to sleep. He couldn't. 

"Just past five thirty," Rick answered. 

Shane shoved to his feet, kicked his sleeping bag to one side, and snatched up the machete again. "Let's go." 

Rick was fiddling with the radio, and Shane knew he was hoping Michonne would join them. Again, Shane was all out of fucks to give. Michonne, it seemed, agreed with Carl- they should be fighting, not scavenging. Maybe if Rick had listened to her earlier, he thought bitterly, they wouldn't be in the mess they were in now, where they had to find bullshit for those bastards. Had to, to keep Ace and Daryl and Merle alive. 

Yeah, he knew he was being an asshole. Rick could deal with it though. 

Rick gave him that stubborn bastard look while Aaron pulled on his shoes with the kind of intense concentration that said he was trying damn hard not to listen. "You ok, brother?" 

Shane scoffed. "Yeah, sure. We ready?" 

"Shane-" 

"Shut up, Rick. Hell no I'm not ok, damn it," he snarled. He wasn't. How the fuck could Rick think he would be? Was Rick ok? Shane didn't fucking think so. And Rick's girl wasn't- 

He yanked his shoulder away from Rick's concerned touch and opened the door. He didn't care if they were ready yet or not. If there was something out there to kill, Shane would kill it. If there wasn't- well, maybe he'd go find something. "I'm fine. Let's just get busy findin' some shit that'll keep everyone alive. Huh." 

Aaron stepped to his side and stared at what had caught Shane's attention. He and Shane glanced at each other, then back. "Didn't see that last night," Aaron said mildly. 

Shane was glad the guy was along. So far he'd kept Rick and Shane from pounding on each other some more, which right now was a damn good trick. Shane had a feeling they were at Hershel's-farm level communication techniques, and he might have felt bad about it, but without Ace there to mediate he didn't know what the fuck to do about it. 

"What is- oh," Rick said, stepping up to squint out with them. "Huh."

Shane crossed his arms and shook his head at the sign. Whoever had lived here had been one mean old bastard in life, Shane would take bets on it. He also had already assumed whoever it was had bit the big one, and didn't that just say a lot about his outlook on life right now? 

Then again, the gate was overgrown and the sign was faded, so it seemed a fairly safe bet. 

"We have today and only today to find something." 

Shane almost snorted at Rick's speech tone, wondering who the fuck his brother thought he was going to inspire. Shane had all the motivation he needed when he thought about Daryl staring at them as he drove away, or Ace going still and stiff while that bastard kissed her. And Aaron was there, that night. He didn't need to be reminded either. 

"They could be back by tomorrow. They could be back now," Rick continued, grabbing his damn ax and glaring at the sign. 

Shane decided he'd had enough of this bullshit and hopped the fence. "What the hell are we standing around here for?" 

"Shane," Rick hissed, but nothing fucking happened. 

Just like Shane had known it would. He stared at Rick, eyebrows up and waiting, until Rick sighed and followed him. Aaron looked like he was praying for patience, and Shane supposed that was probably fair. He really needed to try harder to not be pissed at Rick. Man was doing the best he could, after all, and Shane knew that. Really, he did. 

He started up the gravel drive with the other two, thinking about that sign.

Keep going. The only thing here for you is trouble. 

Yeah, trouble seemed to follow him, so big fucking surprise that was, huh?

They cut through the trees instead of sticking to the drive, because they were desperate but they weren't dumb about it. They rejoined the path, climbing over a long-abandoned boat trailer, and Shane couldn't help it. 

He started laughing. 

Rick and Aaron eyed him like he was dynamite about to blow up in their faces, but shit. Who the fuck ever this was, Shane honestly might have liked him. 

There was a second sign, this one bigger and more detailed than the last, and Shane gestured to it when he got himself under control again. "I like this asshole, Rick." 

"Of course you do," Rick muttered under his breath. "Brother, we need to talk. I'm worried about you." 

Shane waved that off and scanned the sign again. 

"'My name is Leslie William Stanton and I am armed'," he read. "Shit, man. He's got a damn sense of humor, too." 

The man had listed his weapons and his qualifications, declaring he would protect his home and his shit. About three quarters of the way into the man's written speech, he offered them his congratulations. 

"'The only way you have possibly read this far without being shot is because I am dead. Have at it, assholes!'" Shane started laughing again. "Oh, hell, brother, he and Merle would get along great." 

Rick made a noise that sounded like choked-off laughter, and Shane flashed him a grin. Rick shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder, and Shane knew he was forgiven for being an angry asshole this morning. 

He'd still apologize and talk about it later, because letting shit sit lead to problems, but right now they had to solve the problem they already had. "Food, supplies, ammo." 

"Yeah, but we don't have guns," Rick said, biting his lip while he thought. 

Shane shrugged. "Hasn't stopped us before. Besides, you heard the man. We ain't dead, so he is." 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't be reckless, 22," Rick muttered. 

Aaron laughed faintly. "You two really were partners before all this. And it shows." 

Shane and Rick scoffed at the same time, and Aaron laughed harder. Shane, however, was more interested in the house boat sitting in the middle of the lake. 

And the lake full of walkers. 

He ducked around the sign and strolled toward the flat bottomed boat on the shore, the only means of getting out there that he could see. When he saw the holes in the rusty thing, he scrubbed a hand over the back of his head and sighed. 

"Looks like he protected his supplies," Aaron said dryly. "And they're still protected." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. He nudged the boat and shot Rick a look. "Well, if it ain't summer camp all over again."

Rick blinked and choked on air.

Rick kicked at a rock, trying to look unconcerned and failing miserably. 

"Would you relax?" Shane muttered. "It's just stupid camp." 

"Yeah, but my dad is gonna be pissed." 

Shane sneered. He considered saying something about Rick being glad he had a dad to be pissed at him, but Rick was his best friend and, well- Rick was right. His dad was going to be pissed. 

And since it was at least eighty percent Shane's fault, he figured the least he could do was be supportive. 

"Yeah," he said slowly. "That's fair. We'll tell him it was my idea, though. He'll only get mad at me." 

Rick shot him an annoyed look. "Bullshit. It wasn't your idea." 

"Well." Shane flashed Rick a grin and Rick grinned back. "Not all my idea, maybe. But it's cool. I'll take the heat, man." 

"Shut up," Rick muttered. He went back to staring into the distance. "Taking him a while in there." 

Shane glanced up at the closed door of the camp offices. Rick was right; it was taking Mr. Grimes a while. They were up shit creek without a paddle, as his mom said. Shane figured they were looking at a least a week of being grounded. 

Absolutely worth it, though. Jenny had kissed him, when he'd been waiting out here while Rick got yelled at by Mr. Grayson, the head adult in charge of this stupid camp, and their cabin leader. Seemed like the whole camp knew what they'd done, and he and Rick? They were heroes. To the kids, at least. Shane personally liked to think the adults all thought they were heroes too, and just had to hide it because being adults mean being boring and never taking risks.

"Worth it, though," he muttered to Rick with a wink.

The door opened before Rick could do more than roll his eyes, and Shane's shoulders hunched against his will when Mr. Grimes sent a hard look between the two of them. He shoved his hands in his pockets and trailed along behind Rick toward the Grimes' Buick. 

In the car, it was silent for long enough to have Shane and Rick shooting each other surreptitious looks. Then Mr. Grimes sighed and rubbed a hand at his eyes. "Boys," he said heavily. "What on earth were you thinking?" 

Rick started to speak, but Shane beat him to it, leaning forward and meeting Mr. Grimes' eyes in the rearview mirror. "It was my idea, Mr. Grimes. Rick just went along with it to keep me out of trouble." 

"That worked out well for you both, didn't it?" 

"Yes sir," Shane agreed, biting his cheek to keep from laughing at Mr. Grimes' dry tone. "I mean, no sir. Not very well." 

"Shane's being all Shane about it, Dad. It was as much my idea as his. I mean, I picked the canoe, so-" 

"Yeah, but I was the one who wanted to go to the island and look." Shane objected. He was trying to keep Rick out of trouble, but Rick's freaking goody two shoes streak was rearing its ugly head again. Shane glared to try to get him to shut the hell up and let Shane handle it. "Rick just went along with it. I wanted to find the treasure." 

"What treasure?" 

Shane couldn't be sure, but Mr. Grimes almost sounded like he was trying not to laugh. Shane's lip curled in a sneer at his question. "What treasure? The Frenchman's treasure!" 

"And the Frenchman is… who now?" Mr. Grimes asked, and Shane was positive he was trying not to laugh this time. 

Rick had his eyes closed as he answered. "The Frenchman was, well, a French guy. He came over here when America was just being discovered and all that, and he had a bunch of friends. They found gold or something, and the Frenchman killed all his friends for it and hid it somewhere, then disappeared into the mountains to look for Bigfoot." 

Mr. Grimes made an interested sound in the back of his throat, then cleared it carefully. "So you thought you'd find his gold- or something- in the middle of the lake? And you thought the middle of the night, in the rusted canoe that was going to be used as a art project, was the best way to go about it?" 

"Yeah," Rick said. "Seems dumb now, but there's that little island, right, and Shane said how it would make a good hiding place." 

"It is a good hiding place," Shane muttered. "Anyway, it was my idea to go look. Be mad at me, not Rick." 

"Oh, I'm mad at both of you," Mr. Grimes said dryly. "Rick, you're grounded. And you'll be doing chores to earn the money it took to replace the canoe." 

"It wasn't Rick's fault that thing was shit and sunk!" 

Mr. Grimes shrugged. "Well, maybe not, Shane, but it still had to be paid for and you boys were not supposed to be out there at midnight looking for treasure. Rick will work it off. As for you, I'm sure your mother will have something to say about all this." 

Shane wasn't so sure about that, but he was sure about one thing. "I'd like to work for you too. It was my idea, and I should help pay for the canoe." 

Rick's dad sighed. "You're a good kid, Shane. You're both good kids. Fine. But Rick is still grounded." 

Shane held up a hand without looking and Rick high fived him.


	13. Lie #13: "You'd Rather He Just Took The First Damn Swing And Got It Over With." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> psychological torture  
> past domestic violence/abuse  
> major character death

He didn't give you much time with Carl, but you managed to get enough of a rapid update to know that so far, no one else had died and Rick was doing as Negan asked. He was dragging Shane along with him, and Carl was pissed about it. 

You controlled your rather strong urge to lecture Carl on being reckless, because it clearly would not do any good and hadn't since… well, probably since you'd caught him sneaking off to find the infirmary at the prison and had gone with him instead of hauling his ass back to Lori. 

You were all set to deliver that lecture anyway, once Carl stopped whispering, but his eye went wide and he fell silent. Negan held out a glass and you took it automatically, eyeing the warm brown liquid with distaste. Why was he giving you liquor? What the hell was he up to? 

He grabbed Carl's hand and set the beer in it, and you sighed. "He's underage, you know." 

"Relax, sweetheart. He's holding it for me, nothing more. Have a nice chat over here?" Negan ran his fingers down your bare back, just to one side of your scar, and you shivered.

You hated that he clearly liked that reaction. "What are you up to? You're putting on a whole damn show today." 

"Just handling a little problem," he said easily, eyes going to where Tanya held Amber's hand tightly in hers and Amber stared at the floor. "Someone who doesn't remember the rules." 

"Well, shit," you muttered. "Don't- she's fucking young, Negan. Don't-" 

"You and Sherry. Such firecrackers!" He cut you off with fingers to your lips, turning to wink at Carl. "You see that? Kid, you gotta find you wives like these two. They do keep life… exciting."

You ignored his suggestive hand gesture and Carl's clear discomfort, focusing on what was about to go down. "Negan." 

"Relax, Slugger. I told you earlier, I don't lay a finger on my women. We don't do that here," he said, kissing your cheek. He strolled toward Amber and your eyes met Sherry's across the room. 

She looked just as worried as you did, and guilt stirred in you. She really did do her best to make life livable for everyone. She actually cared about them, and she'd asked you for your help more than once. 

Negan knelt in front of Amber and Tanya promptly disappeared. You didn't blame her at all; you didn't want to be anywhere near this situation either, but here you were. Amber's shoulders shook, and her painfully young face went through a series of contortions as she tried not to start crying again. Negan leaned in close, his voice low, but still loud enough that everyone pretending they were anywhere but here could still hear. 

"Amber, baby. You know I don't want anyone here that doesn't want to be here, right?" 

You sighed and seriously considered knocking back the whiskey he'd handed you. This might be easier with a bit of a buzz. 

He didn't. That was the thing. While Negan had zero problems with manipulation and psychological terror, he absolutely did not do force. You knew for a fact that he had not had sex with Amber. He'd told you as much, just a few nights ago. 

She was so fucking young. He'd been doing his best to get a rise out of you, talking about the other wives, and you'd snapped at him about Amber's age and her obvious fear. He'd winked at you and declared that people were a resource, but that didn't mean you had to use every resource you had. 

Amber barely squeaked out an acknowledgment, and your teeth ground together when the predatory smile spread on Negan's lips. He was going to fuck this girl up. Not physically, no. But definitely mentally. 

"So if you want to leave, and go back to Mark, you can." 

She finally looked at him, her face going still with the false calm of pure panic. It was something that you recognized all too well, and you fought back another shiver as Negan's voice went hard. 

"But what can't you do?" he asked. 

Her voice was a whisper. "Cheat on you." 

"That is exactly right," Negan hissed. "You can't… cheat on me." 

You took a step in his direction, glass clenched in your hand and ready to throw down. The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice- for a moment, it was Will, or maybe Mal, and you were- 

Sherry shook her head at you urgently, and you drew in a careful breath and forced yourself to stay where you were. 

It wasn't Mal or Will. It was Negan. Which meant she was going to cry, and she was going to be miserable, but she wasn't going to get hit. Mark, on the other hand- Mark was going to be in for some shit. 

"There's plenty of other gals that would love to take your place, and there's a few job openings that I can think of," Negan continued when Amber met his eyes again. His tone was softer now, reasonable and almost friendly, and you knew no one was fooled. "You wanna go back to Mark and your mom? Hell, I'll put you all on the same job." 

You knew what fucking job, and so did she, judging by the way her eyes widened and she shook her head. "No. I- I'll stay. I'm… I'm sorry," she trailed off into a tearful whisper. 

Negan touched her cheek with his gloved fingertips and delivered the final blow in a soft, regretful voice. "You know what that means, right?" 

Amber's face crumbled and she didn't respond, so he repeated it, tone harder now. She sniffled and nodded, but she got the words out. "Yes. I love you, Negan." 

"Oh. Of course you do, darlin'." 

His satisfied tone had you closing your eyes to keep from making a face at him behind his back. Your hands started to shake at his parting shot to her, and you wondered if it was also directed at you. 

"I don't know why you're cryin'. It's all gonna work out aces for you." 

You tried it with Mal. The trick you'd learned for calming Will down, keeping him from hurting you and your brothers- you figured, what the fuck. It might work for all men, right? Bring them booze, they get less mean. 

It didn't work. 

He took a sip, then set the glass down with careful precision, and every muscle in your body went tense and hard. 

Oh shit, he was so pissed. So pissed. 

It was the only thought circling in your mind, everything else just white static noise that couldn't hold your attention for longer than a moment at a time. He was so fucking pissed, and you didn't know what to do. 

He wasn't like Will. You knew how to handle Will. You knew what would set him off and what would calm him down and how to avoid issues. It didn't always work, of course- your scar burned in memory- but you'd known your footing. With Mal, everything was unfamiliar. Everything was a minefield. 

Shit, you weren't even sure why he was fucking pissed at you right now. Just that he was, and it was about to be bad. 

"What's wrong, babe?" you asked when the silence and the tension got unbearable. You hated this part, the waiting and anticipation. You'd rather he just took the first damn swing and got it over with. The first one was the hard one. 

Mal sneered and didn't say anything. He snatched up the glass, downed the contents, and hurled it at the wall. You flinched back from the motion, and he scoffed. 

Here we go, you thought dully. At least the waiting is over. 

You were fucking grateful when Negan wandered over to Sherry again instead of you and Carl. You needed a minute after watching him and Amber, and you licked dry lips and stared at the floor and pretended your scar didn't burn with old memory. 

Carl reached for your arm and you jerked away from his touch, pulse thundering like someone had started shooting at you. Fucking hell, you thought as you shoved your hand through your hair and looked anywhere but at the kid. This place was sending you back to a person you didn't want to be and fast. 

Your lip curled into a sneer when Negan leaned in and planted one on Sherry, and she responded with equal fervor. In case you ever forgot, that was why you couldn't stand Sherry. She chose to come back; she wasn't forced into it. And she actually liked Negan. 

Not like you on occasion slipped up and forgot who he was and enjoyed a conversation with him. She actually liked him, despite everything he was and everything he'd done. 

She loved Dwight, sure, or she had once upon a time. But she liked Negan. 

Movement caught your eye, like you'd summoned him with your thoughts, and D stepped into the room and froze, his hand twisted in the back of your brother's shirt. The look on Dwight's face- the un-burned half anyway- hurt to fucking see, so you didn't look. You didn't actually care, anyway. 

You cared about Daryl, holding a tray of fruit and cheese in his dirty sweats and staring at you and the kid with worried eyes. You should have looked away, but Negan was busy playing tonsil hockey with Sherry for Dwight's benefit, so you decided to risk it. 

Darrie asked if you were ok with his eyes steady on yours, and you jerked your head in a tiny motion and offered an apologetic smile. He didn't break eye contact; you did, wrenching your eyes away from your brother when you heard Negan's low chuckle. 

Sherry had her back to Dwight and her hand pressed to her lips, and you shook your head at Negan when he strolled over and winked at D. He was such a fucking asshole, and he loved it. 

"Carl. Come grab this tray for me," he said, eyeing your brother as he stabbed a grape with a toothpick. 

Darrie stared him dead in the eyes, and fear for your brother had you shaking. Carl looked around and set the beer down on a coffee table as Darrie decided to make your heart fucking stop and your eyes well up. 

"Why you got him here?" 

His voice was rough and sounded like every word hurt, arrowing straight to your heart and sucking all the air from your lungs. You hadn't heard him speak since Negan demanded to know who he was and your brother looked between you and Negan and spat one word in answer- "Daryl". 

You'd wanted to sob then too. You didn't know how you kept from it now. 

"Whoa!" Negan drew back a little, stabbing toward Daryl with the toothpick in his hand as a tear slid down your cheek against your best efforts. "What we talk about when you're not here, is none of your business. Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has." 

You slid half in front of Carl, but he touched your hand and whispered. "It's ok, Aunt Ace." 

Negan hadn't taken his eyes off Darrie, but you knew he'd heard. "Go with Dwight. He'll get you a mop. Dwighty boy… fire up that furnace! I'll be down in a few. Time for a little déjà vu. Come on, kid."

Sherry waited until Dwight and Darrie were out of sight before striding over to you and snatching the glass out of your hand. She knocked it back in one swallow, dashing at her cheeks as well. 

You shook your head at her when she opened her eyes. "Why did you come back?" 

"We're alive," she said dully. "And he's not that bad. I mean, you know. You made the same deal I did." 

"No," you said dryly. "I really didn't. You like that asshole. I don't." 

"I deal with him, same as everyone." 

You scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that, honey." 

She looked down into the empty glass, turning it in her manicured hands. You weren't sure why the fuck she was over here with you right now, because you were not friends and you did not have the emotional energy to give a shit about her love triangle. She sighed. "Mark is going to get the iron. Like-" 

"Like Dwight," you finished when she cut off. "Yeah, I figured that out, thanks. Once again I ask. Why the hell did you come back? You knew it would be bad." 

"He'd have found us and killed us eventually. Me being here? It keeps Dwight alive. You being here-" 

"My being here kept no one alive, did it?" you snapped, knowing what she was about to say. "Shut the fuck up about it." 

You started to shove past her for your room and solitude, but Laura cleared her throat in the doorway. 

"What?" Sherry snapped. 

Sherry was head bitch in charge here in the harem, and everyone knew it. Why she insisted you were the same as her was beyond you. You were nothing like her, damn it. Nothing. 

"Boss wants Ace," Laura said with a jerk of her head. "And he said bring the booze." 

You groaned. Of course he did. How could he resist the chance to torture as many people as possible at once? Sherry spun on her heel and went for the bar, and you shoved a hand through your hair and reminded yourself that you'd at least be able to keep an eye on the kid. 

And you wouldn't have to think about Merle.

You stared blankly at the massive windows in Negan's rooms. A blanket hung off your shoulders, and it felt so fucking heavy, you wanted to shrug it off. 

But if you moved, even an inch, you'd shatter. 

"Darlin'? You should drink this." 

You didn't turn or acknowledge the voice, because you couldn't. Finally he sighed and crouched down in front of you, setting a glass of water on the coffee table and taking your hands in his. He studied you, and you looked through him. You didn't give two shits about Negan and his concern. 

You'd married him for Merle. Now Merle- 

Now Merle was gone. Just like that, your brother was gone. You shook your head rapidly, denying what your mind was saying; what the doctor had told you in a gentle, soothing voice, right before you'd passed the fuck out on the floor. 

He wasn't gone. He couldn't be gone. He was Merle. He was indestructible, right? He'd cut off his own hand and lived. He'd gotten sick at the prison and lived. He'd made it out of there when the Governor came, and made it through Terminus, and everything after. 

He couldn't be- 

"Look, baby. I'm not really good at this shit, but.. I am- I am so sorry," Negan whispered, squeezing your hands. "He was one tough bastard, and I really thought he'd pull through." 

You laughed, high and hysterical, and Negan jerked. "You did, did you? And that's why you declared we had to have fucking points to treat him? He died from a double infection because we literally could not work enough for his medicine! We've been here four days, you asshole. Four days! This is your fault!" 

You screamed the last bit at him, shooting to your feet and wrenching your hands from his. He rose as well, reaching for you, but you jerked away and paced toward the windows. You shoved your hands into your hair and pulled, until the pain brought tears welling in your eyes and then you were sobbing. 

You wrapped your arms tight around your middle to maybe try to hold yourself together since you were breaking into pieces, and you wept. Through the tears, you kept talking, and you couldn't fucking stop. 

"It's your fault. You and your asshole Simon. And maybe its my fault too, because I wanted those fucking charcoals so bad, and I got us trapped, and he broke his leg getting us out of there. It's my fault, isn't it? My brother is dead and it's my fucking fault. After everything he's done for me, my whole life, its my fault. Mine." 

Negan grabbed your arms and you swung at him without thinking. He ducked it easily, since it was a crap swing, and pulled you to him. "Shhh… Ace, sweetheart. It is not your fault. I promise you that," he whispered, holding you close even as you struggled. 

All the fight drained out of you as suddenly as it had come and you slumped against him in defeat. "It is. It is my fault. Everything's my fault. Merle's dead. Darrie and Dickhead are probably losing their minds by now. Shit, Rick and Shane are probably trying to kill each other. He's looking for me; I know it. Dickhead's looking for me and that's going to get him killed too because of you and your fucking assholes. And he'll never forgive me for this anyway." 

"Forgive you for what?" Negan rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you answered him without thinking, overwhelmed and exhausted and heading rapidly toward numb. 

"For fucking you." 

His hand paused and then resumed. "Had a boyfriend, huh?" 

"He's more than that," you whispered. "But yeah. I do. I did? Fucking hell. And another brother. A twin. He's gonna be devastated when he finds out. Oh, god, how the hell am I going to tell Darrie I got Merle killed?" 

"You didn't. Sweetheart, you didn't get him killed. Nature did. Or, hell. I'll take responsibility for this one. I didn't know how bad off he was. People are a resource, see. You don't waste resources." 

You pulled away from him with a scoff and a sneer, tears drying stiff your cheeks. "People are people, asshole, not commodities. It is your fault." 

He nodded, running a hand over his chin. "Look. This is a big loss. I mean, shit, you married me to save him, and I didn't follow through. I'm going to meet your friends today." 

Blood drained from your face and you sat down heavily as the world dipped and swayed. "What?" 

"It's already in the works. I've gotta make me a point, darlin'. I can't let them get away with what you did to my people," he said with a shrug. He sat down on the coffee table and took your hand again, and you didn't pull away this time, too caught up in the blind horror of this fucking day. 

Merle was dead, and Negan was going to kill the rest of your family. Why were you even alive? You thought in despair. You were losing everything, and for what? 

"Someone's gonna have to die. I wish there was another way, but there isn't. I gotta send a message." He looked so fucking sincere, leaning toward you like he wanted you to understand. 

You didn't. 

"But the thing is, I think this? Your brother? That's on me. So here's what I'm going to do to make it up to you, sweetheart. You pick three people." He held up three fingers, like maybe you were slow and needed a visual aid. 

Since you had no idea what the hell he was going on about, maybe you did. "What?" 

He squeezed your hand gently. "I want you to pick three people you want to make sure stay alive. As long as nothing… extreme happens, your three? Will be safe. You have my word. Free passes for three people you love? That doesn't happen often, darlin'. Who do you want alive?" 

You didn't have to think. The names rolled off your tongue, damning you completely as you took the devil's deal and sealed someone else's fate. But you had to. You didn't have another choice. 

"Dickhead, Darrie, Rick."


	14. Lie #14: "Hell, Even Dickhead Would Agree With That One." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> psychological torture  
> mentions of physical torture

He brought you down here just be an asshole and you knew it. He said it was to make drinks. You hadn't believed him when he opened the door to an empty bedroom on the Savior's floor and you didn't believe him now, bottle of tequila clutching in your shaking hands and eyes fixed on your brother's battered face. 

How dare he? How fucking dare Negan bring you in here; make you witness this? It was bad enough that you knew Darrie was here, you knew what he was going through, you knew Negan had told him about Merle- or maybe shown him, and you shied away from the memory of a one-handed walker on the fence- but now he'd brought you along, and for what? 

To break your brother. To break you. You'd flat refused to fuck him again, after he'd done… whatever the hell all he'd done. He'd killed one of your friends two days ago, and you still didn't know who. You didn't know if he'd kept his word and Shane and Rick were alive, or if all that had been a psychological torment as well. 

You did know that whatever he wanted from your brother, he wasn't going to get it. 

Dwight brushed his hand against yours as he took the glass from it, giving you a look that clearly said you needed to get it together, and fast. You sneered at him and he shook his head as he carried the shot over to Daryl and set it in his hand.

"Believe it or not, things weren't always cool between us," Negan drawled. "See, D here- he worked for points, him and his super hot wife and her super hot sister. But see, sis, she needed meds. And that shit is hard to scavenge, so it costs more." 

You looked at the tequila in your hand and tipped the bottle directly into your mouth for a burning swallow. That was better. Maybe you could get through this now. 

"Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me. Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health, blah blah blah, because I am a stand-up guy. She tells me she's gonna think about it. Next thing you know, I'm dealing with an orange situation! Dwighty boy here stole all the medication and took off with his super hot wife and my super hot maybe soon-to-be fiancee!" He set Lucille against the floor, still clearly pissed the fuck off about it all, and you closed your eyes and pretended you were somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. Somewhere with- 

"So I had to send my guys after him. Because I can't let something like that stand. There… are… rules. Cost me and arm and leg going after him! And you know what- Dwighty boy? He still got away. But here's the thing. D- he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness. I like that." 

You took another shot of tequila and looked at your brother. He was looking at you, blinking hard like every breath hurt, and Negan turned to look over his shoulder and flash you a smile as he continued. 

"Made me… take notice. But Lucille? Well… you know how she is," he said softly, stepping close to Daryl. 

His eyes dropped from yours, message clearly received, and you went back to hoping you were really having one very strange dream, possibly brought on by some of Merle's bullshit you kept bailing him out of jail for. 

"So, Dwight, he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kinda cute, so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live, which if you think about it, that's a pretty screwed up deal cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but… Sherry is super hot. Anyways, it was a start. But it wasn't enough. So Dwight, he got the iron. And then I married his super hot wife. Ex-wife." 

Dwight's face was hard and pinched, but he didn't say a word. He looked at you, wearing your brother's vest and listening to Negan remind him of shit that hurt, and he didn't flinch. 

God, you wanted to be that numb. 

"And then after all that, he still got on board. And now look at him! Pow! One of my top guys! And we are totally cool. The point being, I think you can be that guy. I think you are ready to be that guy. You look around here, this? Well… it can all be yours. Oh- sister not included, sorry. That's my wife. But, if you're one of us, you will be able to talk to her sometimes, as long as you two don't get up to any funny business." 

Oh, so that's why you were here. You were part of the carrot, and the stick both. You looked at the tequila, but your stomach was churning, and you'd had enough. 

Negan's voice dropped, low and tempting. The devil down in Georgia, looking for a soul to steal, you thought bitterly. And he's always willing to make a deal. "All you've got to do is answer one simple question. Who are you?" 

Who are you, Ace? Who exactly are you? 

Daryl didn't respond, so Negan pushed. Finally, your brother's eyes- Dixon blue, Shane called it, that matched yours- met yours, then speared into Negan's. 

"Daryl." 

You balanced the tray full of booze in one hand with the ease of practice. Seemed even the end of the world couldn't erase skills learned from countless hours behind a bar, and you ignored the dull throb of heartache when you thought about your people at the Lullaby and your life in Atlanta. God, you missed tossing bottles and talking shit. You even missed people making the asshole face or ordering bullshit drinks they found on the internet. 

Walking in heels had never been one of your strong suits, not really, but you were doing fine with adrenaline and pure fury driving you. He had Carl, and that bastard was not going to do anything to that kid, so help you, or you'd- 

Well, you'd pull off one of these heels and drive it through Negan's eyeball, consequences be damned. Daryl would agree, and you knew it. The two of you for Carl was an easy price to pay. Hell, even Dickhead would agree with that one, you thought before you could stop yourself. 

You rounded the corner and almost ran into Fat Joey. The tray wobbled but you steadied it easily, lip curling in disgust at the bat in Joey's hand. "Why the hell-" 

"He left her by the truck, when the kid jumped out. Taking it up to him," Joey answered. He looked nervous as hell and you sighed. 

"Hand it over. I'm going anyway, and he's in the mood to fuck with people," you muttered. 

Joey passed Lucille over without any questions, and you touched as little of the fucking bitch as possible. Joey beat a hasty retreat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the boss' favorite toy. 

You wanted to dump some of this booze all over it and light her on fire. You started walking again instead. 

You didn't bother knocking on Negan's door, and his irritated expression was worth it. Then his eyes landed on Lucille in your hand and went hard. "What exactly are you doing with that, Slugger?" 

Carl jerked and you looked him over as you closed the door with your foot. He had his head ducked so his hair fell over his face, an expression you didn't fucking like, and the bandage he wore over his eye on Negan's coffee table. 

Fucking asshole, you thought viciously. "Ran into Fat Joey on the way up. You left her by the truck." 

"Seriously?" Genuine surprise filled his voice and face, and you held the bat out to him impatiently. He ignored you and looked at Carl instead. "I never do that. I guess a kid firing a machine gun is a little bit of a distraction."

You almost laughed at that one, but then he leaned toward Carl intensely. 

"All jokes aside, you look rad as hell. I wouldn't cover that shit up. It may not be a hit with the ladies," he added, waving a hand dismissively, "but I swear to you, no one is gonna screw with you looking like that. I tell my lovely wife here that about that scar on her back, and see? Doesn't she look amazing in that dress? Add in Lucille and the hair, and I would not want to take her on in any way." 

You scoffed and dropped the bat beside the couch as he turned a faint smirk to you. 

"Well," he said slowly, running his fingertips over the bat's handle suggestively. "Maybe in one way, if you catch my drift." 

"Yeah, it's not that hard to," you shot at him. "I'm in this dress because it was handed to me. What do you want with him, Negan?" 

Negan's laugh was low and throaty and sexual, and you could see Carl's discomfort as you ground your teeth together again. "Oh, yes. Feisty. I'm telling you kid, that is how you want your women. That passive docile shit, it's alright sometimes. Can be fun, you know. But spirit- mmm. That's where it's at. I need a drink, sweetheart. Make me somethin' good." 

You enjoyed a brief but delightful fantasy about upending the tray on his head instead, but you went to the counter and started dumping shit into a shaker without a word. He wanted a damn drink, he could have a damn drink- and you could keep an eye on Carl. 

"What do you like to do for fun?" Negan asked abruptly. "You like music?" 

Carl said nothing, and you resisted the urge to look over at them. You had no idea where the fuck he was going with that, but you probably wouldn't like it. 

You were right. 

"I want you to sing me a song." 

"What?" You and Carl said it at the same time, sounding incredulous. 

"Yeah," Negan snapped, anger finally filling his voice. "You mowed down two of my men with a machine gun. I want something in return for that. Sing me a song." 

"My god, you really are an asshole," you muttered, turning back to the booze. If all he was demanding was that Carl sing, you could live with that. Would it be humiliating? Yeah. But he'd live and be unhurt. Small price to pay for the incredibly stupid thing he'd done. 

"I- I can't think of any," Carl whispered. 

"Bullshit! What'd your mom used to sing you? What'd your dad play in the car? Start singing." 

You turned, shaker in hand, because that last was a threat in a low whisper. Sure enough, he had Lucille pointed at Carl's head, and Carl shot a wild, slightly panicked look at you. You made a calming motion you didn't fucking feel, and Carl closed his eyes, made a face, and began to awkwardly sing. 

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." 

You glared at Negan as he swung Lucille like he was a batter warming up for a game. Negan rolled his eyes and made a settle down motion of his own at you, like you should know he wasn't gonna do anything to the kid. And yeah, he left kids mostly the fuck alone- it was one of those batshit rules that you actually agreed with- but still. He was terrorizing him. 

"You make me happy, when the skies are grey-" 

Carl's halting voice cut off when Negan swung Lucille hard, and you turned back to finish his fucking drink before you threw it at him instead. 

"Do not let me distract you, young man!" Negan grunted as he swung again, and you closed your eyes and practiced deep breathing. 

"You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." 

When it hit you, it made you want to weep for the kid. You'd heard him sing that to Judy, with far more confidence and a smile in his voice, many times. Lori must have sung it to him, as a lullaby, the same way he did to his sister. 

Thinking of Judy had you biting your cheek hard not to cry, but it didn't work. 

"That's pretty good," Negan said when Carl fell silent. "Lucille loves being sung to. It's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. Weird, huh?" 

You dumped the contents of the shaker into a glass and swiped tears from your cheeks. You couldn't do this. You had to be strong for the kid, damn it. 

"Your mother sing that to you? Where is she now?" 

Carl sniffled and didn't answer, and you turned to find him with his head hung and his hands laced together so tightly you could see white on his knuckles. Negan sat on the arm of the couch, and the look on his face was genuine regret. 

"Damn. Dead, huh? You see it happen?" 

"I shot her," Carl whispered. "Before it could…" 

"Damn, no wonder you're a little serial killer in the making," Negan declared, and that was it. You'd fucking had enough of him fucking with Carl. 

You shoved the drink into his face and he took it automatically. "Here. Stop being a dick to him. He's a kid." 

Negan sipped, glanced at the glass consideringly, and sipped again. "Shit, sweetheart, this is good." 

"Yeah, well, it's not like I did it for a living or anything," you muttered, arms crossed. "Seriously, what are you going to do with Carl?" 

Negan stared at you without speaking, his eyes guarded and blank. Then he knocked the drink back in a long swallow, dropped the glass on the coffee table, and rose. "Come on, kid. Get up. It should be ready." 

Carl looked like he'd had as much of the fear as he could take, and he was just resigned to his fate now. "What should be ready?" 

Negan held his arm out and you took it reluctantly. "The iron."


	15. Lie #15: "It Was Looking Like Maybe They Might Actually Pull This Reckless Bullshit Off After All." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> references to past rape/non con  
> references to past domestic violence/abuse

"'Go camping', Lor said," Shane muttered, staring at the thunderheads building in the sky. "'It'll be fun', she said." 

Rick shot him a look from where he crouched, securing one of the pegs for the tent. "Might still be fun." 

"We're gonna get poured on." 

"You've been wet before." Rick moved to the next peg, hammering it in further. "It's not that bad, 22." 

"But, Rick," he whined dramatically, winking at Carl. "Everyone knows the only fun part of camping is the s'mores. Cain't have s'mores if you cain't light a fire." 

"Yeah, Dad! S'mores!" Carl echoed, grinning as Shane tossed an arm around him. 

It wasn't supposed to be that bad, and Shane knew it. He and Rick had planned their boys' weekend well, and Shane knew Rick knew he was just being a shit for Carl's benefit, but Rick's long-suffering sigh still made him crack up. Rick pointed the mallet he was using to drive the stakes in Shane's way. 

"Uncle Shane needs to learn how to stop peeling away the silver lining to find the rain cloud," Rick said dryly. 

Shane looked pointedly up at the sky. "Don't take much searching, brother." 

Rick looked very much like he wanted to flip Shane off, but his son was right there and so he couldn't bring himself to do it. Shane flashed him a grin and ruffled Carl's hair. 

"Come on, little man. Let's leave your dad alone and go find us some logs. Rain shouldn't take long, and when it's gone we'll have dry firewood and the best s'mores in the place. Everyone will be jealous! They'll be begging to join our little camp." 

Carl grinned up at him. "Should we let them?" 

"Aww, I don't know. Depends on how good we think they might be at poker," he said with a wink. 

"We are not playing poker!" Rick called. "Watch for snakes!" 

"Yes, Scout Leader," Shane shot over his shoulder. 

He was fairly certain Rick called him an asshole.

Shane and Rick stared at the flat bottomed boat, riddled with bullet holes. 

"Well," Shane said slowly. "What the fuck happened to this thing?" 

"Don't know," Rick replied. "But it'll take on water quick." 

Shane contemplated the lake and the walkers, judging the distance between the shore and the canoe. They could make it. Well. Probably. 

"We can probably make it to the canoe," Rick said, echoing his thoughts. Shane glanced over as Rick shoved his ax back in his belt, saw his look, and shrugged. "Probably." 

"We've been spending too damn much time together," he muttered, scrubbing at the back of his head. "Ain't got a choice, do we?" 

"Today and only today," Aaron agreed softly. 

Shane eyed the boat again, crossing his arms, before turning to the other two. "Here's the thing, though. Aaron, man, you should stay back here, keep an eye out." 

Aaron gave him a flat stare, and Shane wondered if he'd learned that shit from Daryl. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." 

"This isn't an insult, man. It's not that I don't trust you, or don't think you can cut it, or any shit like that. It's simple physics. Math. Boat'll sink quicker with three, and Rick and I, we been partners a long time. Hell, half the time we don't even have to talk," Shane said with a crooked grin. "Someone should keep an eye on shit from the shoreline too. So if we don't make it, you can get word back to the others." 

Aaron looked away, his lips pressed together like he wanted to argue some more. But Shane was right and they all knew it, and judging by the look in Rick's eyes, he agreed. It was just a matter of getting Aaron on board too. 

Finally he nodded, once. "Fine. I'll stay. If you two get into trouble, I can be your backup as best I can. Maybe try to get them to swim toward the shore." 

Shane nodded, searching for something to use as a paddle. Aaron beat him to it, heading over to the lunatic's sign and delivering one swift kick to the weathered wood. Rick shrugged and slid the boat out onto the water, and Aaron came back with two chunks of sign that would have to do. 

"Ready?" Shane asked. 

"Let's do this, 22." 

Shane shoved the boat out and jumped into it, Rick on his heels. This was gonna suck. 

They were about halfway there when Shane started to get truly worried. The boat sank lower in the water, the walkers were getting harder to avoid, and Shane could have sworn he heard the enemy music from that stupid video game Carl and Ron had played when they first got to Alexandria. He eyed the distance between them and the canoe and the height of the water and shoved his makeshift paddle deeper. 

"Almost at the canoe," Rick said a few strokes later. "Taking on water quick." 

Shane thought 'almost' was a bit of a stretch, but it was looking like maybe they might actually pull this reckless bullshit off after all. "Yeah, yeah," he grunted. Then he saw the bloated bastard coming straight for them, more coordinated than some of the others. "On your left, brother." 

The one on the left became one on the front and another on the left, and Shane shoved a third away from their rapidly sinking ship as Rick flipped his paddle around and drove the pointed end through one soggy skull. Shane scrambled his machete free with one hand and kicked at a walker until he managed to pull it out, then almost capsized the boat when he and Rick both leaned over the same side. 

Aaron shouted something from shore, but neither Rick nor Shane were paying much attention. They were about to be swarmed, and they needed to move fast. 

Then somehow, they were free, and they really were almost at the canoe. Shane grunted at Rick's 'almost there', concerned about the way the side of the boat was almost level with the lake. He tossed his makeshift paddle aside and grabbed at the canoe, pulling the boat up beside it, and turned to grin at Rick. 

And the walker sat up hissing and reached for him, teeth narrowly missing Shane's face. 

"Shit!" he yelled, scrambling backwards, trying to get at his machete again and stay away from putrid, snapping jaws. 

Rick came out of nowhere, stabbing the bitch through the skull and tossing her over the side. Shane let out a long breath, opened his mouth to thank Rick, and found himself getting a mouthful of god-awful lake water instead. 

It took a second for him to register that he was underwater and there were fingers scrabbling at him, but when it did, he was surprisingly calm about it. He kicked for the surface, blindly pushing rotted bodies away, and as soon as his face broke the water he yelled for Rick to keep his ass in the canoe. 

He knew his brother would dive in after him, no hesitation. 

"Shane! Shane!" 

"What'd I say?" he yelled back, treading water and scanning the rapidly closing in dead. Shit, they were coming from every direction. He was fucking surrounded. What the hell was he going to do now? 

Hands grabbed his legs and he panicked for a minute, but he shoved another away from him and shouted to Rick again. "You stay in there! Stay! I can- fuck." 

He didn't know how much of the 'fuck' got all the way out, since he was underwater again, and this time he was pretty sure he was going to die here. This is it, this is all, game fucking over, he thought wildly. Thanks for playing. 

Fingers hooked onto his belt and he suddenly remembered that he had a knife or two stashed around his person. He kicked out wildly, his only saving grace being that these waterlogged bastards were about as coordinated as blimps, and while he wasn't what anyone might call a fish in water, he could at least hold his own. He got a knife in his hand, shoved away a body with the other and thought about puking when he felt his hand literally sink into decaying flesh, and kicked himself free of the mess of them by diving down and praying goddamn hard. 

He kicked back toward the surface- or what he hoped was the surface, he wasn't opening his eyes in this shit if he could help it; he was probably already contracting some debilitating stomach virus and every disease known to man just from being in it- when his lungs started to burn, and clean air was cold on his face. 

Rick was screaming his name, and Shane's only clear thought was something along the lines of 'if that man is in this water, so help me-'

He shook water from his eyes, sucked in oxygen, and looked around. Holy fuck, he was alive. "I'm ok!" he yelled in Rick's general direction, bemused to find that was actually true. "I'm ok!" 

The ladder to the back of the houseboat was right there, and it was a straight shot to it, no rotting dead in the way. Shane took off, less gracefully than maybe he would have liked, but getting his ass on something solid that wasn't trying to eat him or drown him was now his absolute priority, followed by making sure Rick's dumb ass hadn't followed him into the lake. 

He hauled himself up the ladder, saw Rick and the canoe almost there, and collapsed flat on his back to contemplate the clouds, life, and the sheer surprise of still being among the breathing. 

"What a fucking day," he muttered. 

Shane thought for sure he was dead when Negan drug him into the RV by the back of his shirt. Somehow he avoided being killed for stupidity, and he wasn't entirely sure he was ok with that fact. 

Especially after Negan tossed Rick in after him, jumped behind the wheel, and drove the three of them into a crowd of walkers.

"You are mine," he said softly into Rick's ear. They'd already tried to take the bastard on once and been shut the fuck down when he pulled a machine gun from the passenger seat, and now he and Rick sat side by side and waited for the hammer- or in this case, the ax- to fall. "The people back there are mine. This? This is mine." 

Negan waved Rick's ax in his face with a smile. Shane stared at him, too fucking strung out and wary about what this bastard was going to do next to do anything but study his every move. 

He wondered if this was how Ace felt, when her dad or when that fucking cockroach got pissed. 

He shouldn't have thought about Ace. Like thinking her name had gotten Negan's attention, the bastard cut his eyes to Shane's. 

"Your incredibly lovely girlfriend? Now my wife. Everything you thought you had? Is now mine." He stood and sauntered toward the RV door, and Shane managed to look away from him and at the hands scraping along the windshield in the fog. They were in the middle of a fucking herd of them, from the looks of it, and from the way the RV rocked as bodies slammed against it. 

Negan opened the door, used Rick's ax to kill one, and stared Shane down as he tossed the ax up on top of the RV with a thunk. "Hey, Rick? Go get my ax," he said calmly. 

Shane jerked and half-rose. "No. I'll go." 

"Sit your ass down, Dickhead. Rick's going. Rick is the one who needs to learn his lesson. Go get. My ax," he finished in a soft, dangerous tone. 

Rick stood, grabbed Shane's shoulder when he would have objected again, and pushed him back down. "It's ok, brother." 

"Oh, it is most certainly not ok. In fact, for you two, it may never be ok again," Negan snarled. He grabbed Rick by the jacket and shoved him out the door, slamming it closed behind him. "You… You trouble me, Shane, but not like old Rick does." 

He leaned on the table across from Shane with a groan, tapping that fucking bat against the floor absently. Shane stayed silent and watched him from the corner of his eye, determined not to let the bastard get a rise out of him. Not again. He'd already fucked up enough; he wasn't going to get someone else killed.

"See, Rick? Rick concerns me because he thinks he can-" Negan gestured vaguely with one hand, "-get out of this somehow. He thinks he's smarter than I am, stronger, something. Hell, maybe both. I can break that. I can beat it out of him, and then he'll be a good little leader, doing the hard, impossible shit he's been doing all along, but doing it to bring me shit." 

He ran a hand over his face and clicked his tongue, looking off into the distance. "Man, if I can get him on board, that man is going to do great things for me. I can- I can feel it. But you," he added, tone changing as he looked at Shane. He leaned closer, hands crossed on the handle of Lucille, and stared into Shane's eyes. "You think you have nothing to lose. And that- that is a whole different kind of dangerous animal." 

Negan stood when Shane scoffed, swinging the bat up to his shoulder and hooking his other hand through his belt. "See, you think that because I've got your Slugger- excuse me, my Slugger- and I've killed a couple of your people, you're at rock bottom. There's nothing to do but dig your heels in and climb your way back up, right? Wrong. See, there's a couple of things you and I, we need to get straight. I like Ace. She is- she is feisty. She knows how to stand up to me and damn does she know how to go down. I mean, when to back down." 

Shane saw red, hot and furious and coating his mind with a roaring haze. He knew what this fucking asshole was talking about, and he remembered the look in Slugger's eyes when she'd talked about that bastard Hall's hand in her hair, pulling her onto him back before the world ended. He remembered how she'd stuttered, words tripping over themselves, in the prison when she'd just gotten free from Hall again, saying she'd blown him again and worse. He remembered the first time she'd offered to go down on him, after all that, and the hitch in her voice that he didn't think she even knew about. 

He was going to strangle this man with his bare hands. Just give him half a chance, he thought. He'd chop Negan's dick off and shove it down his own mouth, and see how he liked it. 

"Ah, ah, ah, Shaney-boy," Negan practically purred. "I see you. I feel you. Oh, you hate me right now, don't you? Good." 

Shane's eyes flashed back to Negan's, surprise busting him out of the mind-numbing anger. "Good? You want me pissed at you? Ready to kill you myself?" 

"Yes. Dayum! I do. Oh, man, oh man!" He chuckled and ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head with something like awe in his eyes. "Oh, you really think you could, don't you? See, Rick- Rick is an idealist. You? You are a realist. You know damn well that if you cross me, I will make someone else pay. Don't you? So yes. I want you angry. I want you to hold on to this feeling right here, so when you think you have nothing to lose and maybe you should take your shot- you'll remember that it can always, always be worse. Everything you think is yours is mine. Rick's out there learning his lesson right now, and you're learning it in here." 

Negan pointed his fucking bat at Shane, bringing it under his jaw and tipping his head back. "But I think you got the message. Didn't you… Dickhead?" 

Thumping heralded Rick's arrival at the dock and Shane leaned up enough to grab his brother's hand and haul him onto the boat before flopping back down. They were both breathing hard, and Shane was working up the words to express exactly how shit this whole goddamn experience was shaping up to be, complete with a long ass diatribe about the two of them and sinking boats being a metaphor for their lives. 

Rick shoved upright and started patting him down like an armed offender instead. "You ok? Brother, you bit? You scratched?" 

Shane shoved Rick aside and sat up with a groan. "Naw. Look, man, we joke a lot, but we aren't married. Get off me, brother, I'm fine." 

"Fine? Shit. Jesus fucking Christ, Shane." 

Shane clapped Rick on the shoulder when he sat beside him and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Yeah. That about sums it up." 

"Shut up. Seriously. You bit?" Rick demanded. 

Shane shook his head. "Naw. I'm good. It's alright, man. Live to fight another day." 

"Yeah. Sure," Rick muttered. Neither of them moved.


	16. Lie #16: "How Could I?" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> minor character torture  
> vomiting. I know some people have a thing about that, so just- be warned

Like the dramatic asshole he was, Negan slammed Lucille into the railing as the three of you got close. Everyone in the fucking Sanctuary not on active jobs had gathered around the furnace, and they hit their knees as Lucille rang against the railing. 

Negan held her out by the handle toward Carl. "Hold that for me," he said absently. 

Your eyes found your brother, with a mop and Dwight's hand in a knot on the back of his shirt. Shit, Darrie, we gotta get out of here. Pity there was no way out. 

"You know the deal," Negan declared to his assembled subjects. "What's about to happen is going to be hard to watch. I don't wanna do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can't!" 

His speech voice was different than Rick's. The thought pressed in before you could stop it, but it was true. Rick's voice took on passion and desperation when he giving a speech. Rick's goal was always to motivate, to unify, to bring you all forward. Negan's goal was to quell the masses. He was bending people to his will, forcing them into the mold he had designed for them. Negan went for domination and fear. 

"Why?" he asked after a pause. 

The whole-ass crowd answered him. "The rules keep us alive." 

What kind of sick Third Reich bullshit- Your lip curled in a sneer as he sauntered down the stairs, looking out over his kneeling subjects with a hard expression. You and Carl trailed along behind him, good little puppies on a leash, and you wondered what the kid thought of all this. 

"That… is… right. We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world! We are… the Saviors." 

Oh, that was a neat collection of fucking propaganda, tied up with a bow and served on a platter of absolute bullshit, you thought, mouth going dry in sheer disbelief. Did any of his people buy this horse hockey he was selling? 

Shit, more of them did than you wanted to admit. You knew how people clung to whatever they could after the world ended. Anything that made them feel safe, that made them feel alive. That's just what people did. 

Oil, you thought abruptly. Negan, his hands spread wide on the railing as he stood over the kneeling crowd, leather jacket gleaming in the glow from the furnace and light sparkling through the wide windows of the factory floor, overlooking the kneeling crowd- you'd paint this scene in oil, and you'd title it something sarcastic and shitty, like 'democracy' or something. It was a Moment, even if it was a hateful one.

"But we can't do that without rules," he said softly, breaking the spell. "Rules are what make it all work. I know it's not easy. But there's always work, there is always a cost. Here, if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner…" He roared it out, face contorting into anger as he jabbed a finger toward the crowd. 

Then he laughed, a low chuckle as his face smoothed into a Cheshire cat smile. "Then it is the iron for you. On your feet. Ace, head on down and join my other wives, would you, sweetheart? I've got work to do." 

You clipped down the stairs, planting each step carefully in the heels, because if you didn't you'd end up busting ass on the floor and this moment was dramatic enough without your contribution, thanks. The scar on your back, exposed in this backless bullshit Negan had picked for you, burned faintly as eyes followed you over to the huddled group of women in little black dresses and heels. 

You leaned close to Sherry, crossing your arms over your stomach as it rolled in anticipation. The look on Negan's face as he slowly descended the stairs had you watching his every move and your mind racing through everything he could possibly find to get pissed about. You hated that reaction, hated it down to the core of your being, so you tried to wrench yourself away from it and whispered to Sherry instead. "What the hell is happening?" 

"Mark's being punished. Shut up and watch," she breathed back, hands clasped loosely behind her back and face attentive. 

Since you knew whatever was happening was the same thing that had happened to Dwight's face, you didn't know how the fuck she was so calm. 

Negan pulled on a heavy blacksmith's glove as Dwight carefully removed- 

Oh. Oh, god. Your stomach rolled and you breathed out carefully to keep from puking right then and there. Somehow, it hadn't sunk in, and you were starting to think that was purely because you hadn't wanted it to. 

It was one of the old-school irons you'd been fairly certain Gregory was forcing someone to use to press his impeccable suit, back at Hilltop. Dwight had hooked it from inside the furnace, and it fucking glowed it was so hot. Negan shot D a look as he removed it from the hook, and you dug your fingernails into your arm when it hit you. 

This was what he'd done to D. This was- oh shit, you weren't sure you would make it through this. How the fuck were Sherry and Dwight so goddamn calm? 

"Mark… I'm sorry," Negan said, sounding like he wasn't fucking sorry at all. "But it is what it is." 

Sherry shifted closer to Amber, leaning in and whispering to her as Amber's body shook with barely contained sobs. The girl's heart was in her eyes, and you wished like hell there was something you could do, but there was nothing. This was Negan's circus, and she and Mark had fucked up. Now they paid. 

You all paid here. 

Dwight looked to the floor, turning away as Mark shied back from Negan's slow advance. You wanted to do the same but you couldn't; sick, twisted horror keeping your eyes on the glowing red iron as Negan brought it to Mark's face. 

He screamed. Even over the screaming you could hear the sizzle, and then the smell hit- 

It was too much. Nausea had you turning with a hand pressed to your mouth, stomach heaving, but that goddamn smell followed you and you saw stars. Sherry let go of the now-weeping Amber to grab you when you would have collapsed completely, and you tried to wave her away. You didn't want her help, damn it, but oh shit, that smell, and the sound of him screaming- 

You were either going to hurl or pass out, and thank god Mark passed out for you. 

Oh, shit, never mind, you were going to hurl anyway. 

Negan pulled the iron from his face and your knees went out when skin came away with it, and his laugh finally did you in. You took two rapid steps to the side, away from everyone else, and promptly lost what little you'd eaten that day onto the floor, narrowly avoiding your shoes. You considered staying there, back to everyone, but somehow, as Negan laughed harder, you straightened and turned back to him. You honestly had no fucking idea how, and Darrie was staring openly, worry filling his eyes. Carl swiveled from you to Negan and Mark and back, like he didn't know what the fuck to be more concerned about. 

You could have told him it was Negan. He should always be more concerned about Negan. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

You genuinely would have punched him, if you thought you could take a step without falling down. You gritted your teeth as nausea churned through you again, and he hooked the iron back over Dwight's hook. 

"Jesus. He pissed himself," Negan muttered into the silence. "And my wife hurled. I'm disappointed, sweetheart. I thought you were made of sterner stuff. Clean that up," he whispered in Daryl's ear. 

Darrie didn't take his eyes from you, but he started mopping the floor under Mark's chair. 

"Doc, I'm all done. Do your thing," Negan ordered. "Well, the pussy passed out. But it's settled-- we're square. Everything is cool! Let Mark's face be a daily reminder to him and to everyone else that the rules matter. I hope we all learned something today because I don't ever want to have to do that again!" 

He eyed you, frowning slightly, as he strolled to Carl's side. "Some crazy shit, right? You probably think I'm a lunatic," he said softly.

Then he hooked an arm over the kid's shoulders and steered them both toward you. He tipped your face up to him with his fingers under your chin. "Slugger, sweetheart, are you alright?" 

"I'm fine," you ground out, but it was wildly untrue and even you weren't convinced. 

He shot a glance at Sherry and turned to look at Doc Carson, still laboring over Mark's face. He went back to studying you before waving in the general direction of the Saviors. "Someone please escort my lovely wife down to the infirmary so the good doctor can have her taken care of, would you? You do not look so good, sweetheart, and you blowing chunks over a little burn? Does not seem right. Come see me after you get checked out." 

You started to sneer, but another wave of nausea had you clamping your jaw shut over your tongue instead so you didn't puke again. Then again, maybe you should just up and hurl all over his shoes this time. That would be satisfying. 

Negan kissed your cheek and started for the stairs again, bringing Carl reluctantly with him. "Come on, kid… let's go figure out what to do with you." 

Merle frowned at you from the doorway while you shoved things into your bag. "Ya movin' out." 

"Yeah? That's what I've been saying," you answered, stuffing a shirt into the already-exploding suitcase. 

Merle sighed and walked over, bumping you out of the way and starting to fold clothes. "Pack ya art shit. Ya give two shits about it. Why? Why cain't ya stay here?" 

"I got the job at that bar. It's across town, and I'll be working shitty hours. Merle, come on, you don't want me trying to come all the way back over here- and through this neighborhood- at two in the morning." You snapped shut the hard cases that held your pastels and your chalks, sliding them carefully into the duffle you used for street art. All of your supplies would go in it for this trip, and the suitcase would fit everything else. Which was good, since you didn't have a car and Daryl's truck was in the shop. You were taking the bus to your new place, so you needed to travel light. 

Merle grunted. "Ya'd be fine in this neighborhood. Prob'ly better'n across town. 'Round here, folks know not to mess with ya." 

"And where I'm moving, I don't have to worry about them knowing that. It's not high-class or anything, since I keep shitty hours, but it's respectable." 

Merle was still frowning as you swung the bag up to your shoulder and turned to him. "I don't like it none, lil sis." 

"You gonna miss me or something?" you asked, voice light and teasing. Now that the time had come, you were actually pretty fucking sad. You'd miss the hell out of him and Darrie, but you wanted to live on your own. 

You wanted your own place, where you could paint on the walls and in the middle of the night. You wanted to only clean up after yourself for awhile, and to sleep on your own weird schedule and not have to juggle the concerns of two other adults. It was better, and you knew it. 

But you were going to miss them so bad. 

"Maybe I's just gonna miss ya cleanin' this place up," Merle muttered, looking away with his eyes suspiciously bright. 

You sniffed and leaned into him. "Don't be an asshole." 

"Why not? It's in my nature, baby girl." 

That had you laughing, even if it was watery. "Course it is. You're a Dixon." 

"Damn straight." Merle rested his chin on top of your head and hugged you tight. "You call us, aight? Don't ya dare be a stranger." 

"How could I? I'm gonna miss you two shitheads too much. Tell Darrie I said bye, ok?" 

"He's gonna be pissed ya left while he was at work." 

You kissed his cheek and shrugged. "I told him I was. We said bye this morning." 

Merle grabbed your suitcase before you could, gesturing you ahead of him and out the door. If you didn't know him so damn well, you'd have said he was impatient for you to get going. "I got it. I'll at least see ya off." 

You kissed his cheek again at the bus stop and shoved him back toward their building. "Ok, get. I don't need more help, Merle."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be an ungrateful shithead. I done raised you, little girl. Ya need all the help ya can get." 

"Fuck you," you fired back pleasantly. "I'm good. I mean it." 

"Yeah," he said quietly, and you could have sworn there was pride in his smile. "Yeah, ya are. Aight. Love ya, baby sis." 

"Love you too," you whispered as he turned and ambled back inside. 

The bus pulled up before you could do anything stupid like change your mind or start blubbering on the sidewalk. 

You stared at Carson's ceiling and tried not to think about the last time you were down here. It wasn't working. 

Merle's shit-eating grin flashed into your mind, him waving expansively with his missing hand, and you squeezed your eyes closed like maybe that would make the memory go away. It didn't, of course, and only made the sight of your asshole brother that much clearer. You felt the tear running down your cheek toward your ear and couldn't bring yourself to care. 

You'd just started being a family again, you thought sadly. Now you had nothing. No Merle. No Shane. No Judy or Carl or Rick. Darrie was being tormented and humiliated, and you knew soon enough you wouldn't have him anymore either. 

He'd try busting out again and get himself killed, or he'd become one of them, like you had, and he wouldn't be Darrie anymore anyway. It didn't matter which; you’d lost him just as surely as you'd lost Merle and everyone else. 

The door opened and closed again and you didn't bother to open your eyes. 

"Miss Dixon," Doc Carson said gently. "What seems to be the trouble?" 

You scoffed. 

"Yes, I suppose that's fair," he said after a beat. "I am so sorry still, for your brother." 

"Don't talk about him," you snapped, finally motivated to open your eyes. "If you'd treated him earlier-" 

"You didn't have the points. My hands were tied." 

You rolled your eyes, sitting up abruptly and swallowing hard. "You're a doctor. Do no harm, right? You should have done it anyway and figured it out later. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, after all."

"I am not going to argue the ethics of remaining alive and unharmed so I can continue to treat as many as I can verses making a stupid and rash decision for one person that would result in loss of care to many," he said stiffly. "What happened upstairs? You were clearly not well." 

You stared in disbelief, then scoffed again and shoved a hand through your hair. "What happened? Negan turned a man's face into human barbecue and it made me nauseous and lightheaded. I'm not eating enough, that's all." 

"Why not?" he asked, setting his stethoscope pieces into his ears and pressing the drum to your heart. 

You sighed, but breathed deeply in and out at his quiet request. "I can't keep it down. That's grief for you." 

"Hmm," he agreed. "How are you sleeping?" 

"What's sleep?" 

He chuckled. "Tired often, then?" 

You laid back down at his insistence, and he poked and prodded some more. "Tired is a permanent state of being, yes. Doc, I just had a reaction to watching a man get his face burned off. That's all." 

"Most likely," Carson agreed. He helped you sit up, and gave you a serious look. "It doesn't hurt to be cautious, however." 

You disagreed with that. Your eyes wandered to the other exam bed, where Merle had been when you last saw him. Being cautious had kept the two of you from busting out of here and getting help, and god- 

That decision certainly had hurt.


	17. Lie #17: "He And His Goddamn Hero Complex Would Just Play For The Other Side Then." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> threat to a minor (canon)   
> psychological torture

Didn’t take them long to get moving again. Adrenaline, Shane had discovered years ago, was a powerful thing. These days he figured it was about ninety percent what keep him in motion. 

He grabbed the railing and hauled himself to his feet to wave at Aaron on shore. Aaron's shoulders sagged before he waved back, flashing a thumbs up Shane's way. Shane held one up in response, and he got the distinct impression the other man was doing some deep breathing to calm his own adrenaline. Thank god he hadn't tried anything dumb when Shane went into the water. 

He and Rick went to either side of the door, machetes in hand, and Rick counted them down from three. It was probably pointless, Shane mused as he ducked low and to the side once Rick tossed the door open. Between the amount of noise they'd made and laying there contemplating their sheer dumb luck, they would have alerted anyone still alive within. But habit- and training- are hard to fight, and he and Rick had been clearing unknown areas together for far too long to get casual about it now. 

The houseboat was, as he'd expected, empty. Well, empty of anything living, or even formerly living. It was a fucking gold mine of supplies. 

He glanced at the pallets of cans, the guns, the bottled water. Shit. Man had been true to his word. He did have a whole fucking arsenal. This was a damn find, and it was a pity they'd lose it all to those bastards. 

He opened a wooden chest and started laughing. 

"What?" Rick asked. 

Shane gestured. "Bit of a sore loser." 

On the lid, taped to the underside, was a drawing of a middle finger. 'Congrats for winning, but you still lose!' was scrawled on it, and Shane shook his head as he poked at the knife collection inside the chest. Crotchety bastard, he thought. He would have liked him. 

"We sure this isn't your secret hide out?" 

"Shut up, man," he muttered. "I wish."

"Looks like the only thing he ran out of was ammo," Rick said, popping the magazine from an automatic rifle and scowling at it. He tossed it back down and looked around the room. "We gotta get this back, now." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. He flashed Rick a crooked grin. "Luckily, I've got an idea." 

"Why do those words fill me with fear?" Rick muttered, but he followed Shane back out anyway. 

Shane glanced at the engine and figured out in two seconds it was shot. "Well, brother, never fear. Plan A won't work; that thing's not firing up any time this century. On to Plan B." 

"Which is?" 

"He's got paddles," Shane said with a shrug. "And the wind's picking up. Won't be hard to drift back to shore." 

The got the boat back to shore and Aaron pulled Shane into a backslapping hug before they began the loading process. The adrenaline was rapidly wearing off and Shane found himself sinking back into that morning's angry despair as they loaded the truck. What had seemed like a goldmine in the house boat was looking distressingly small now that they were faced with reality. 

"Going this far, risking this much, for them?" Rick was talking to Aaron in a low voice, and Shane tried to tune them out in favor of his own internal brooding session, but he couldn't. "A lot of people don't agree with it. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't." 

Shane stared over the lake when Aaron answered. 

"I was there. I saw what happened on the road. What we're doing is gonna keep people living," he said firmly. 

Yeah, he was there, Shane thought. He grabbed another box and tossed it into the truck, hard enough to have Rick shooting him a look. He ignored that and went for the last one. 

"We get to do that," Aaron continued, "It doesn't matter what happens to us." 

'It doesn't matter what happens to us if we keep people living.' Shit. Whatever it takes, Shane, you just pull the trigger and get back to me. 

Shane wondered if he would always be torn between trying to keep everyone safe and saying fuck every single person in the world but her. He wondered if he would always put her- and getting back to her- above everyone else when it came down to the wire. When had he become that selfish? 

He should have taken the bat for Glenn. He could have. That bastard would have loved that. Or for Abraham. If Shane had volunteered, when Negan said he had to kill someone, then Negan wouldn't have been fucking with Rosita so badly and Dixon wouldn't have punched him, and Glenn would still be alive. 

Shit, maybe Dixon wouldn't have ended up with the bastard as well. Shane could have saved two lives and made another significantly better- and increased their chances of getting the other two Dixons out of Negan's clutches and freeing everyone from his tyranny- if he'd just been willing to put other people first. 

But no, he was trying to stay alive so he could get back to her, and instead- 

"Michonne doesn't think this is living." Rick interrupted Shane's mental spiral. 

He was grateful. He needed to keep his head in the game, and playing what-if wouldn't do that. 

"Well, committing to a choice like this, after living how we did- free- I get it. It's hard. It's giving up everything right up until your own life." Aaron's voice was thoughtful, considering, and Shane grunted when Rick clapped him on the shoulder and headed to the cab with them.

Inside, Aaron looked over Shane at Rick and shrugged. "Either your heart's still beating or it isn't. Your loved ones' hearts are beating or they aren't. We take what they give us so that we can live." 

Rick nodded, starting the truck. "Yeah." 

"Man, that's shit. Part of it anyway," Shane muttered when they both looked at him. "Michonne's right. It ain't living. It's surviving, like we been doing all along. Whatever it takes," he said with a shrug. 

Because that was the thing. Shane was a selfish bastard by nature, and he would do whatever it took to have a life with his girl. He'd fucked it up before the world ended, and for a little while after, but he'd had a taste of it now. He'd had a taste of happiness, and he was going to get it back. 

Guess he really had made his choice about who he was, and it sure wasn't a hero. But maybe that cop in Atlanta had been right too, and all the heroes were gone. Ace sure told him over and over again she didn't need one. 

That was fine with Shane. He and his goddamn hero complex would just play for the other side then. If selfish bastards like Negan were the ones who made it to the top in this world, Shane would be a selfish bastard.

"Whatever it takes," Rick agreed.

"Do you even know what that trip was about, Rick?" 

Shane glanced at his brother, on his knees in the dirt again along with the rest of them. Somehow he'd survived the walkers and gotten the axe back to Negan, and morning had broken while they drove back. 

Shane hadn't even minded be hauled out of the RV by Simon the dead man walking and drug through gravel, since he'd seen at a glance that no one died. 

He didn't look at what was left of Abraham or Glenn. No one else had died. 

Negan sighed. "Speak when you're spoken to." 

"Ok. Ok," Rick mumbled after a minute. His eyes were wild, and Shane was worried about his brother. Negan was breaking him, cracking the man who could do anything in two, and Shane didn't know how to fucking make it stop but he needed to. 

He needed Rick, to get them out of this. To get his Slugger out of this. 

"That trip was about the way you looked at me. And about some things Shaney boy over there and I needed to clear up, but for the most part, it was about the way you looked at me. But you're still lookin' at me the same damn way… like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work!" 

Rick looked away from him immediately, to the gravel under his hands, but Shane had a feeling Negan wouldn't be satisfied with just that. 

He was right. 

"So," Negan asked softly, crouching beside Rick. "Do I give you another chance?" 

"Yeah. Yes," Rick managed, voice raw and strained. 

Shane had a bad feeling about the look on Negan's face as he clapped Rick on the back and rose. 

"All right! And here it is. The grand-prize game! What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads," he added with a gesture to his men. 

Shane stared at him, only him, as rifles and handguns cocked and lifted. Rosita, Daryl, Michonne, Maggie, Sasha, Aaron, Carl, and Eugene- Shane didn't look at them. He couldn't. 

"Good. Now… level with their noses, so if you have to fire…" Negan mimed an explosion coming from his face, then winked at Shane. "It'll be a real mess." 

Then he stole every bit of warmth or breath from Shane when he looked at Carl and smiled. "Kid? Right here." 

Carl didn't move. Hell, he didn't even twitch. Shane could feel the tension in Rick, and he knew he wasn't much better, when Negan's voice softened as he warned him again. Carl rose slowly, walking over, and Negan took off his belt. 

"You a southpaw?" he asked conversationally. 

"Am I a what?" 

"A lefty." 

"No," Carl snapped, every bit of teenage sass Shane had ever seen shoved into that one dripping word. 

Negan tried not to smile. "Good." 

He wrapped his belt around Carl's arm, and Shane had a feeling he knew where this was headed. And there was no way in hell he was going to let it. Absolutely not. 

Negan had Carl face down in the gravel, arm extended toward Rick. "Simon," he called absently. "You got a pen?" 

"Yeah," the asshole said. 

Pen in hand, Negan crouched, pushed up Carl's sleeve, and drew a line across his arm, running his mouth all the while. 

"Please," Rick whispered. "Please. Please don't. Please don't." 

"Me?" Negan laughed. "I ain't doin' shit. Rick, I want you to take your axe, and cut your son's left arm off, right on that line. Now I know, I know- you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then all the people back home die. Then you. Eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it." 

"You don't have to do this," Michonne called. "We understand. We understand!" 

"You understand! Yeah. I'm not sure that Rick does. Or Shane over here, either, if I'm bein' honest," Negan added, looking Shane's way. 

He tore his eyes from the bastard and met Carl's. Kid was wide-eyed, fear filling him, but deathly calm. 

Fuck this. 

"Take mine. Not his, take mine. He's a kid, man. Rick's a brother to me, always has been, since the two of us were kids. The lesson'll be the same." Shane was fairly certain he was babbling, words falling over themselves, but he would do anything, anything to keep Carl from being hurt, and to keep Rick from having to do that. 

"See? He doesn't get it. I make the rules. I decide the lesson. You want me to remind you? Johnny. Shoot the sick one," Negan called. 

Shane's eyes shot to Maggie and back. "No. Don't. I'm- don't." 

Negan bit his lip and chuckled. "Now you're starting to get it, aren't you? Rick… I'm gonna need a clean cut. Right there on that line." 

He was still running his fucking mouth, endless bullshit that turned Shane's blood to ice as he watched Rick struggle. No one should ever- Shane couldn't- Rick couldn't- Goddamn it, what did he do? What did he do?

Rick started sobbing, and Shane wanted to right along with him, and still that asshole was talking, talking, talking. Shane stared in horror, but it was Carl that finally broke the static that had covered his mind. 

Carl looked at his dad, voice clear and strong. "Do it. Dad, just do it." 

Shane was pretty sure it wasn't just Rick who broke when he picked up the axe. Shane wasn't sure he'd ever be ok again either. 

"Shit," Rick muttered as the gate opened. 

Shane agreed with that sentiment. That wasn't their people, it was Negan's. He was back. 

This time he'd only brought a couple of trucks, not the fleet that had arrived the first time. Shane's heart started pounding, and he wondered if he'd get to see one of his Dixons today. Would the bastard have brought Ace to show off again? Would he bring Daryl? Merle? 

Once again he wondered when the hell he'd adopted Ace's brothers- or been adopted by them, he honestly wasn't sure which- but all that was secondary to wondering how long the Saviors had been here and what had happened. If anyone had died.

Shane followed Rick out of the truck, giving Aaron a reassuring nod. Aaron pulled the truck in while Rick had a bit of a stare off with the asshole on the gate. 

"Where is he?" Rick asked finally. 

"Negan? He's in your house, asshole. Waiting for you." 

Shane's blood ran cold. Judy. Judy was at Rick's. And Carl. He ran a hand over his head as he glanced at Rick, not wanting to give anything away in front of these bastards, and Rick had the same controlled-panic look that Shane was feeling. They took off at the same time, heading for home. 

And some other bastard got in their way, even going so far as to put a hand on Rick's chest and stop him. Shane's eyes narrowed, because this was the same asshole who'd been harassing Enid, and he was a fucking predator if Shane had ever seen one. In another life, Shane would have let the man get in a couple good shots in a fistfight, so he could add on to the charges when the time came. 

And he'd have cuffed him a little too tight. Yeah, Shane was starting to think maybe he never should have been a cop after all. 

"Whoa, hey," the asshole- David, Shane thought he remembered hearing- said, spreading his hands. "Just like that? See, we've been waiting for hours just to see what you gonna bring us, huh?" 

Shane jerked when he set a hand on Rick's cheek and pushed his face to the side, but Rick tossed up a hand to keep him back. David tossed an arm around Rick's shoulders to steer him toward the truck where Aaron was climbing carefully from the cab. 

"Why don't we have a look first?" David crowed, and shoved Rick toward the truck. 

Fuckers, Shane thought, but he went too. No help for it.

They hauled the boxes and totes out of the truck, and the one who'd opened the gate shrugged. "Not bad." 

"We had to go out pretty far," Aaron said. 

"What the hell is this?" The blonde straightened up from the wooden chest holding a piece of paper and Shane's blood ran fucking cold. "'Congrats for winning, but you still lose'?" 

She sounded more annoyed than anything, but the prick who'd laid hands on Rick snatched it from her, fury in his eyes. "You leave us a little love-note?" he demanded, closing in on Aaron. 

"No. I just- I mean- we wouldn't, obviously-" Aaron stuttered, backing up as David got into his space. 

Fucking hell, Shane thought. "It wasn't him. We found it in that crate. Forgot to leave it behind," Shane snarled, stepping up to help. 

"I don't give a shit who wrote it," he declared, shoving Aaron back into the side of the truck. 

Shane's temper boiled. They wanted a fight? He'd give them a fight. 

Someone grabbed him from behind and tossed him up against the truck at Aaron's side, and Shane grunted when he hit and the breath whooshed from his lungs. 

"It's not about the damn note," David snapped. 

"Run along to Negan, Rick," the one who opened the gate said softly. 

Shane looked into the Saviors' eyes and braced himself. This shit was going to hurt.


	18. Lie #18: "I've Had Worse, Man." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> minor character death(s) (canon)

Shane took the first hit to the stomach, like he thought they'd go for. Standard beating fare, he thought as he curled around the fist and went to the ground. Knock the air out of someone, get them on the defensive immediately. He could have blocked it, it was so predictable, and probably done some damage back.

Thing was, Shane knew this wasn't a fight he was allowed to fight. This was a matter of minimizing the damage to anything vital until these fuckers decided they were done. That was all there was to it. 

He protected the back of his head and his vital organs, like he'd been taught, and hoped to hell that Aaron knew how to do the same. Man was tough, and Shane figured he'd probably taken a hit or two, but that was different than getting ganged up on and put through the ringer like this. 

Dimly he heard the asshole from the gate talking to Rick, but the next blow was a shot to the spine that snapped him straight long enough for a foot to the face. Shane got lucky then, cause steel-toed boots should have wrecked him and put him out, but it was a glancing shot with no power behind it. 

As it was, he could feel his face bleeding, and everything was starting to hurt. He tucked his chin again and keep riding it out, knowing they weren't going to beat him to death. Not here, anyway, and not without the bat bastard's approval. 

"You're alright. You're alright," someone said in the background. The sound of a fist hitting flesh rang out, and Shane realized suddenly that no one was hitting him. 

He considered and rejected the idea of looking around, and it turned out that was a smart move on his part. Unfortunately, it didn't really matter. 

Hands grabbed his shirt and hauled him half-up, and David the predator smiled. Then he hauled off and punched Shane square on the chin, and Shane saw stars. 

"Alright, alright, alright. Point made." 

David dropped Shane, and he lay flat on his back and breathed slowly, taking mental stock of the situation. He was alive. He turned his head so he could check, and Aaron was groaning and bloodied but also still alive. That was good, he decided. 

The way he felt was not good, but all in all, he knew how to take a beating and these guys didn't know how to deliver one as well as they thought. He'd had worse. 

"Get going. Negan's waiting," the gate asshole sneered. 

Rick was at Shane's side, and Shane waved him off and pointed at Aaron. Rick hesitated, but Shane was already pulling himself to his feet, slowly and painfully, but it was happening. He half-crawled to Aaron's other side, and undignified scrambled but what the hell did he care, to help the other man up. 

"My heart's still beating, right?" Aaron whispered to them both.

Shane snorted. "Yeah, probably a little faster than normal. Come on, tough guy." 

They made it up, Aaron between them, and Shane would have liked to say that it was Aaron who set their slow, limping pace. Shane would also have liked to say he wasn't leaning on Aaron, but Shane was trying hard not to be a liar these days, and every muscle and a few bones ached with each step. 

"You ok?" Aaron asked when they were far enough away. 

Shane grunted and flashed him what was probably a gory smile. "I've had worse, man." 

"When?" Rick muttered. 

Shane missed Rick already. Man had just had a baby a month before, and it wasn't that Shane thought he should be back from paternity leave already or anything- Lori and Carl needed him more than King County did- it was just that Shane was fucking sick of Leon Basset. 

So sick that he'd jumped at the opportunity for a solo night, even if it was the graveyard shift and his least favorite. 

He watched the woman walking rapidly, keys in hand and head down but eyes moving, and wondered what the hell she was doing out alone at three in the damn morning. Sure, she was doing everything right for a woman out alone, but why the hell did she risk it? And no, Shane wasn't being sexist here; he was being realistic. He absolutely believed women should be safe to go out whenever they damn well pleased, but the reality he- and they- lived in was, they weren't. 

And it wasn't like this was as bad an area to be in as, say, Atlanta, but still. He kept an eye on her, especially when he saw the trio of definitely not sober assholes come staggering out of the bar. 

They noticed her as well, and Shane sighed and rubbed at his eyes when they fell in behind her, talking and laughing way too loudly. She glanced over her shoulder and started walking faster, and Shane reached for his radio when she cut down an alley. 

"Bad idea, honey," he muttered, and got out of his car, muttering into his radio as he went. Then he turned the thing way down and moving quietly through the shadows. 

The drunk trio followed her into the alley and Shane said a quick prayer that tonight not be the night he got killed through terminal stupidity, updated dispatch, and ducked into the darkness himself. A muffled cry and the sound of raucous laughter echoed up to him, and Shane pulled his flashlight and his gun and announced himself. 

He never saw the first one coming, but dispatch had sent him backup when he called in the first time, trusting his gut and not trusting him to not be an idiot. That turned out to be the right call, and that night still showed up in his nightmares on occasion. It definitely showed up when he looked at his nose in the mirror too long, that's for sure.

They were getting close, thank god, when the gunshot echoed through Alexandria. Shane and Rick looked at each other, and all of them began to hobble faster. Rosita's voice reached them, but Shane couldn't make out what she was saying. He made out the second gunshot loud and clear, and they finally rounded the last corner and saw- 

It took Shane a minute to process what the fuck he was seeing. 

A handful of their people stood in the street, Saviors' guns trained on them. Tara had come back, he saw. Oh shit. Denise. 

Tobin, Eugene, Francine, a few of the others were gathered around, staring at Negan. On the ground, Arat had a knee on Rosita's chest and her gun pointed back toward Rick's house, where Carl stood on the porch, one eye wide and the other unwrapped and visible. A pool table had been drug out in the middle of the street, blood and guts and the crumpled form of- shit, was that Spencer? It was; Spencer Monroe's crumpled, bleeding body lay at the feet of the pool table. 

And Negan stood with a predatory smile and that damn bat on his shoulder. 

Eric came running as soon as he saw Aaron, and Rick and Shane passed him over to lean on Eric. Aaron grabbed Shane's arm, trying to hold him back as Rick shoved his way toward Negan, but there was no way Shane was letting this happen without his own intervention as well. 

Judith was in Rick's house. 

"We had an agreement," Rick snarled as he faced off with Negan. 

There was blood on Negan's cheek. "Rick! Look everybody, it's Rick and Shane!" 

Rick glanced at him as Shane stepped up to his shoulder, but what the fuck did he think Shane was gonna do? They were partners, and they both had a stake in this place. 

"Ah, your people are making me lose my voice doin' all this yelling," Negan said conversationally. "Rick… How about a thank you?" 

Rick's head tilted to the side and Shane thought uh-oh, but also, what the fuck was this bastard talking about? 

"I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that we're never gonna sit around and braid each other's hair or share our deepest, darkest secrets, but how about a little credit? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am!" 

Shane looked at Spencer's body, at Rosita's bleeding face, at where he could now see Olivia on the porch. 

"Your kid? He hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought him home, safe and sound, and? I fed him spaghetti!" 

Shane whipped his head around so fast blood from his cheek splattered on Rick, but that was fine since Rick was doing the same thing he was. He shot Carl a look he hoped told the kid just how much fucking trouble he was going to be in when they made it through this, and from the way Carl winced and looked like he wanted to sink down below the floorboards of the porch or become invisible immediately, he figured it probably worked. 

Negan's low whistle brought Shane's attention back to him. Negan was looking him over, an appraising glance that had Shane going tense. "Oh, man, Dickhead. You do not look so good. What the hell happened to you? Actually, I do not care. You know why? Because another one of your people? Well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him out… for you. And another one, here--" 

Shane wasn't surprised by Spencer- the man was a sneak born and bred, after all- and he barely spared him a look. He followed the bat when Negan pointed it toward Rosita, wondering just what the hell she had done to land herself in hot water and get that slice down her cheek. 

"She shot Lucille, tryin' to kill me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed!" 

What the fuck? Shane thought. How the hell did Rosita get her hands on a fucking bullet?

"And by lookin' at her-- that mouth did some major damage. Personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat… I think she didn't trust her." 

Negan finally stopped fucking talking, and Shane grabbed Rick's elbow as he took a half step forward, the blank, glazed anger Shane had seen in Terminus, toward Joe, toward the Governor back in his eyes. Careful, brother, Shane thought. Don't get someone else killed now. 

Rick apparently was not receiving Shane's psychic messages. "Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just go," he snarled at Negan. 

Shane resisted the urge to run a hand over his head and sigh, mostly because he thought that might hurt. 

Negan made an exaggerated face, like he was surprised and wounded that Rick didn't want to exchange more pleasantries. "Sure thing, Rick-- right after I find the guy or gal who made this bullet." 

Shane frowned. They had someone who could fucking make bullets? Why didn't he know that? And why hadn't they been doing it all along? Who did they have who- shit. 

"Arat?" Negan said slowly. 

Shane's eyes widened when she glanced around, then pointed her gun at Eric and Aaron. 

"It was me!" Tara yelled it out in a panic, and Shane actually did shove his hand through his hair that time. He was right. It hurt.

"No," Eugene stuttered through tears, even as Shane opened his mouth. All eyes turned to him, and he lowered his hands from over his face, crying. "It was me." 

Shit. Shit, damn, fucking hell. Shane thought about Eugene's urgent need to talk to Rick, about the papers he'd handed to Rick before driving off in the RV the night this bastard had shown up. It was him. There was no one else who would have figured that shit out. 

And now Negan was going to kill him. Fucking hell. 

"It was only me," Eugene whispered. 

Negan had closed in on him, eyes steady and cold. "You?" 

"It required one spent casing, one four-holed turret reloader, powder, one funnel for the powder--" 

"Shut up," Negan interrupted him. "I believe you." 

Negan paced away, his face contorting as he brought Lucille up in front of his face, gripped in two hands. Shane could see the bullet lodged in the bat now, and he wished like hell the thing was lodged in Negan's skull instead. "Lucille, give me strength!" 

"I'm going to be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick," Negan said after a pause, tone forced calm with his eyes still closed. "That and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavanged, it's not good enough. Cause you're still in a serious, serious hole after this day." 

Rick didn't twitch, and Shane keep his hand on Rick's arm to maybe prevent him from swinging at Negan. This was worse, he thought dispassionately in the back of his mind, than Negan killing Eugene. Eugene was weak. He was a self-professed coward. It wouldn't take much for him to be making bullets for Negan. 

Shane hated that he almost wished Negan had killed him. 

"Patch your right hand man up there, Ricky. He's not looking too good," Negan added with a wink Shane's way. "I get the feeling you are gonna need him. Let's move out!" 

Shane and Rick stayed as frozen as the rest of their people as the Saviors lowered their guns. Rosita pleaded for Negan to take her instead, but the Saviors ignored her and shoved Eugene off with them. 

"Oh, Rick? I ain't gonna lie- your kitchen is a goddamn mess." Negan laughed as Shane fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I'll see you next time." 

He followed his men up the road, bat on his shoulder and swaggering, and Shane indulged in another bloody daydream that probably made him as psychotic as Negan was. 

All eyes turned to him and Rick as they left, and Shane started to rub at the back of his head, hit a bruise, and winced. 

Faint growling came from behind them. Rick and Shane turned at the same time to see Spencer trying to rise, his innards spilling out onto the ground. Shane sighed, grabbed his knife, and stabbed him through the skull, then almost ate asphalt when he tried to pull the knife back out. Rick steadied him as the world tilted, and suddenly Carl was on his other side. 

Shane knew they should say something to their people, some word of encouragement, but he couldn't think of anything. That was Rick's job, and Rick wasn't doing it. 

As they passed Olivia's body on the porch, Shane couldn't much bring himself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all would have had this chapter last night, but my internet decided I didn't really need it. I disagreed. Strenuously. The router did not care that I cussed it out. Oh well


	19. Lie #19: "I'll Be Fine On My Own." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> references to past child abuse  
> past miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> minor character death (canon)

"Psst. Darrie," you whispered in the darkness, knowing he was awake. 

He grunted, and you figured that was about all the acknowledgement you were going to get. 

"I need to go to the doctor," you said slowly. You'd waited till after dark deliberately, cause Lord knew this was not a conversation you wanted to have if you had to look him in the face. 

"Why?" Darrie's voice was tense and concerned, and you knew he was remembering how badly Will had reacted the last time you'd gone to a doctor. 

Since you'd rather not think about it, you swallowed hard and forced yourself to answer him. "I haven't, uh, had a period in a while." 

"Jesus, Ace, what-" 

"Not pregnant, jackass," you mumbled, stung by the severity of his tone and the judgment. You weren't a fucking slut. Hell, you hadn't had sex since- anyway. And besides, you couldn't be.

Sheets rustled as Darrie moved, and your bed dipped with him sitting down heavily on it. "Not what I meant, sis, an' ya know it. How long's it been? I ain't know shit about this shit, but that's not healthy, right? Is it-"

"I don't know. That's why I need to go. Think Merle's got any money? Cause Will sure don't," you mumbled, wishing you could sink into your bed and die. 

Darrie sighed again and rubbed his hand over your back. "I'll call him tomorrow. We'll figure it out. Or you could call him." 

"Are you shitting me? I can barely talk to you about this, Dar." 

Darrie half-laughed. "Yeah, I figured. I'll handle it. You schedule an appointment somewhere, aight? I don't know nothin' about that crap. Want me to come with ya?" 

What would you do without him? You wondered as tears burned in the back of your eyes. Without either of them? 

"I'll be fine on my own. Just needed some help with the money," you whispered. "Thanks, Darrie." 

"Don't fuckin' call me Darrie," he shot back as he headed back to his bed. 

You followed Laura out of the infirmary, mind blessedly and wonderfully numb. You weren't thinking. Not about any damn thing. 

It was kind of amazing. 

You felt great, to be honest. Laura was looking at you like you'd lost your goddamn mind, and you supposed that was fair, because honestly? You should have been losing your fucking shit right now, what with everything. 

Something crept into the edge of your thoughts and you ruthlessly shoved it aside. You were numb and blank, and it felt good, damn it. 

Oh holy shit, you were going to have a breakdown any minute now. 

"The wives' quarters are-" 

"Not taking you there," Laura interrupted. "You're heading to the boss' rooms. He's going to want to talk to you." 

Yeah, he fucking would, and you squashed that thought beneath serenity and imagined your mind was a smooth, white sheet of sketch paper. Which reminded you- 

"Fine, but have someone bring me my art bag." 

Laura eyed you again and grunted. 

Here it was, you told yourself firmly. You'd sold your soul over to the devil. 

You'd moved Merle down to the infirmary, and Dr. Carson had taken one look at him and gotten to work immediately. He'd let you help him, since you knew your way around some basic first aid, and when he'd done all he could do for the moment, you'd held Merle's hand and let him lecture you on being an idiot. 

Then they came to collect you, and now it was time to pay the piper. Now it was time to find out if Dixons really did do anything for each other. 

Shit, Ace, you thought, a flash of Merle's face a mask of pain swimming through your thoughts. Of course you did. You could do this, and you would. It wouldn't be that bad. Hell, if he didn't beat you bloody before hand, then it wouldn't even make your top ten worst moments list, right?

You shoved off from the sink, watched your work smile slide over your lips and reach your eyes, and wondered if whatever Will had broken inside you would ever truly heal. You had a feeling the answer was no. 

You opened the bathroom door anyway. 

"There you are, sweetheart. Feel better?" Negan pitched his voice low and seductive, different from the overconfident asshole you were used to. It made you pause, knocked you off balance, as did the room around you. 

The massive windows had poured in light during the day. Now that the sun was down, you scanned for the view of the city lights they promised as you briefly forgot that the world had done a complete and utter collapse. The view was still amazing, stars wheeling in the sky stretched endlessly to infinity, and it drew you like a compass to North. 

Negan joined you at the window, leaning his shoulder against it and staring at your face instead of the view. You could feel his eyes on you and see the soft smile from the corner of your eye, and you largely ignored him. After a bit, he half-laughed. "Like the view?" 

"I'm going to paint it," you answered honestly. "Look at that." 

"Mmhhmm," he agreed. "Civilization fell, but look at nature reminding us we were only top dog on one little rock. I've seen the Milky Way out there. Not that faint haze, either, but the real thing." 

You finally looked away from that stunning expanse of sky and to him, your fingertips sliding down the glass pane. "Are you as much of an asshole as you seem?" 

"Damn, darlin'. Cut right to the chase, don't you?" He winked at you when you shrugged, shoving off the window and gesturing toward his rooms instead. "Do I seem like an asshole tonight?" 

He'd lit candles, and the flickering glow illuminated the rest of the room. It was almost opulent, with a massive canopy bed, a seating arrangement, the hand-hewn dining room table. You briefly wondered what mansion they'd ransacked to get all this. He had rugs on the floor and glass decanters in a grouping on the counter.

You looked him in the eyes. "Yes. I think you are." 

"Why did you agree to marry me then?" 

"My brother needed medicine and I only had one thing to work with," you answered honestly. 

Negan sighed. "You want a drink? I want a drink. Wish I could offer you one of them fancy fruity concoctions, but I don't know how to make that shit. I can do a martini and bourbon straight, and that's about it." 

"You do the martini dirty?" 

"I do a lot of things dirty, sweetheart, but I don't even know what that means," he said over his shoulder as he poured from one of the decanters. 

"Splash of olive juice and garnished with an olive," you told him absently. You were studying the sky again, already playing around with color palettes and mediums in your head. "Dry means made with white dry vermouth. Perfect is equal parts dry and sweet." 

"You know your martinis, then." 

"I ought to; I was a bartender." You'd settled on, surprisingly, watercolors. Oil would have been the natural choice, and god knew you could do something breathtaking with that, but you wanted it softer. Smoother. Less Starry Night and more Charles Reid, dreamy and raw. 

Negan handed you a glass and you took it automatically. "Bartender, huh? And an artist?" 

"Mmhhmm. Street art, some fine art. Street art was my passion." 

"You are interesting, I gotta tell you. You and that brother of yours, you've got a story in there. I'd love to hear it," Negan said. He turned to contemplate the landscape with you, and you forced yourself to stop mixing pigments in your mind and focus. 

He was relaxed and somehow so were you, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. "Why?"

"Why what? Why would I want to hear it? Because people are a resource, sweetheart, and contrary to how it may seem out there, I do actually give two shits about people." 

You studied his profile. He'd lost the jacket, the bat, the glove. The gun belt, too, and most of his attitude. He had one hand in his pocket as he sipped and looked at the sky, and his feet were bare. It's hard to be wary of someone with bare toes, but you did your best anyway. "I don't know that I believe you." 

"I'm sure you don't. I bet I could change your mind." 

"Come on, Negan," you said, rolling your eyes and setting your own drink down on the table with a thunk. "We both know what you want. I traded myself to you for Merle's life. We both know what that means." 

"I supposed we do," he agreed. He moved toward you, slight smile on his lips and something calculating in his eyes. "What do you think it is that it means, dear wife?" 

You held your ground until he was almost on you, then swallowed hard, started painting in your mind again, and closed the distance between you, tipping your face back for his kiss as you pressed your body to his. He trailed his fingers down your sides before pulling you tighter to him and up onto your toes. 

Will Dixon had been an abusive bastard, and you were more glad he was dead than you wanted to examine too closely. But he was right about one thing, you had to admit. You were his ace in the hole. You could fool anyone into believing you were fine. 

Make that two things. You absolutely were a slut, in the truest meaning of the term. It didn't matter that you were spreading it, as Will would have said, to save your brother's life. 

It was who you were, wasn't it? He'd been right. Fucking Will. 

You had your shit spread out along Negan's table; various tools and mediums scattered around you and a handful of pages ripped from your sketchbook and drying. You'd taken the chair he usually say in, where you could see out the windows, and you'd been painting for hours. 

It was nearing dawn by now, and if you let your mind wander away from the art long enough to think, you had a feeling you'd start crying again. You absolutely refused to be crying when Negan finally got there. You didn't know what was keeping him, but losing yourself in watercolors and acrylics and that glorious view out his windows was a far better prospect than- 

You stopped thinking again, ripping the page you'd been working on free and setting it aside to dry with the others. You dropped your brushes into the water beside you and grabbed feverishly for the pastels he'd also managed to find. 

If you'd mentioned something, even once, Negan had found it for you. You didn't know how to feel about that, but right now, you didn't care. 

The sun was rising, and you needed to capture it. You had to. 

You must have dozed for awhile, at the table. The sun was fully up and high in the sky, and you stretched and groaned and shoved a hand through your hair. What the hell had come over you last night? you wondered, studying the pages strewn- well, fucking everywhere. 

Watercolors, pastels, acrylics, several sketches in pen and ink or pencil. Holy fucking hell, you'd been almost manic, hadn't you? 

You looked at what was in front of you, still in the sketchbook, and swallowed hard. 

Dickhead and Judy filled the page. Shane lay stretched along your bunk in the prison, one arm under his head and one foot flat on the floor, dead asleep with a tiny, only a few days old Judith laying on his chest. He had a hand curled protectively around her, and you remembered the way the her tiny fist had opened and closed against her chin while she slept. 

You'd stood there and watched the two of them, your whole body absolutely aching from trying to do too damn much while you healed from Mal, and you'd considered drawing them then. But Shane had smiled, eyes still closed. 

"You gonna stand there all day or you gonna come lay down?" he'd whispered. 

You'd gone and curled up at his side, between him and the wall. He'd wrapped his arm around you and pulled your head to his shoulder, tangled his fingers in your hair, and gone back to sleep with a contented sigh. You hadn't slept, but you'd lain there quietly all the same, and when Judy woke up hungry you'd taken her and let him sleep. 

You'd sketched them in pencil, quick and rough and unpolished, and you deliberately turned that page away and picked up your pen to start another. 

You remembered why you were up here. 

The door slammed open, pulling you out of the painting so fast and hard your hand jerked, sending a thick black line where it absolutely did not need to be. 

"Damn it!" you half-yelled. "Don't fucking do tha-"

You cut off abruptly at the look in Negan's eyes, blood running cold. Very deliberately, you ripped out the ruined page and closed the sketchbook, keeping half an eye on him as he set Lucille down and stripped out of the leather jacket. 

You rose and started to clean up, capping paint tubes and tucking pastel sticks back into the case. He stared at you while unsnapping and peeling off his glove, not saying a word. Man was fucking pissed and you knew it, and a familiar tension crept up your spine and settled like lead in your already churning stomach. You refused to give in to it. You absolutely refused. 

He said he didn't hit his women. You were going to believe that until proven otherwise. But that didn't mean you weren't going to be wary. 

Negan moved slowly, eyes on you, and you set down the paint in your hands and waited. He kept coming, getting up in your space, and you weren't frozen. You really weren't. You could have moved back, but that would have been a sign of weakness, and you couldn't do that. 

"I went to Alexandria yesterday," Negan said, voice soft. "I took the kid who machine gunned my men back to his house. I made spaghetti. I waited for Rick and your Dickhead- excuse me, just Dickhead, he's not yours anymore- to get back. And while I waited, do you know what happened?" 

You swallowed hard and lifted your chin. "How the hell could I?"

"No. I don't supposed you could. Very well. Let me tell you what happened. First, some asshole who thought he was a goddamn gift from God came and tried to get me to kill Rick and put him in charge. I don't like Ricky-dicky, and Ricky sure as shit don't like me. But I respect him. And I do not respect people who won't do the hard work for themselves. So I killed him." 

"Who was it?" you whispered, voice raw. Another dead. Shit. 

"Oh, I don't know. His mommy was a senator or something," Negan dismissed with a snarl. 

"Spencer Monroe. He was an pompous ass. Better than his brother though," you muttered with a grimace.

Negan was still right up in your face and still so pissed it radiated from him in waves, but he chuckled. "I'd hate to have met the brother. So then, after I killed him, do you know what happened then? After I did something nice for your friends- former friends- this hot as hell chick comes up, whips out a gun she most definitely was not supposed to have, and shoots Lucille!" 

The last words were delivered louder and louder, and his hand shot up as he yelled 'Lucille', gesturing toward the bat he'd leaned against the couch. 

You flinched, taking an involuntary step back, and Negan's eyes narrowed. He stepped back as well, hands clenched into fists, and drew in a deep breath. When he kept talking, it was quieter, controlled. 

"So I had to kill someone else. I let Arat do it. The fat lady in charge of supplies wasn't my choice, but oh well. And then, then I had to figure out who the hell made her a bullet." 

Olivia, you thought wildly. You focused on his words, on what he was telling you, rather than thinking about how you'd just fucking flinched or about why you were here to be hearing all this. Who the hell could have made a fucking- Eugene. 

"I relieved Ricky of his smarty-pants bullet maker, and I told him to get Shane-o checked out, because Dickhead was not looking so good when I saw him. Someone made a mess out of his face," Negan added with another laugh, "and I came back home. I was hoping to visit one of my dear wives, but when I got here, do you know what I learned? One of those wives was missing, and it seems, she took my prisoner- your brother- with her! So what I want to know, Ace, sweetheart, is- what do you know about all that, and what are you doing up here? Whatever you have to tell to me so urgently better be some good. Fucking. News." 

You couldn't think. You couldn't fucking- "Daryl's gone?" 

"And Fat Joey's dead. I am serious, Slugger. Now is not the time. Tell me why you're in here," he snarled. 

You sucked in a shuddering breath. At least Darrie was free. That was a miracle you hadn't anticipated, and it made things at least a little easier. If he could get back to Rick and Shane, maybe there was hope after all. 

Not for you, of course. Even if you got back to Alexandria, there wouldn't be a point. Shane wouldn't want anything to do with you now, for sure. 

You closed your eyes, wrapped your arms around your stomach, and forced the words out in a flat voice. "I'm pregnant."


	20. Lie #20: "He Didn't Kick Me That Hard." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

Judith played with Shane's fingers. Water ran and dishes clanked and clattered from the kitchen behind him, the only sound in the stony silence of the house. Shane didn't flinch when Rick dabbed at his cheek with a damp washcloth. Asshole with the steel toed boots had done some damage, but it was worse in other places than his face. He had a rib he suspected was a little more than just bruised, and everything fucking hurt, so what was a little sting on his cheek?

He didn't mind pain. Never had. What he minded was that asshole killing two more of their people and taking a third hostage. What he minded was Negan having been in this house, having held his daughter. What he minded was Negan having Ace and Daryl and Merle, and what in the hell they were supposed to do about all of those things? 

Rick sighed. "This needs stitches." 

"We gotta do something, brother," Shane said, voice tight and hard and grim. Yeah, he knew he wasn't really responding to whatever Rick had just said. Thing was, he didn't really want to fucking respond. He didn't care about his goddamn face. "We can't- he'd gonna kill us all." 

"Shane-" 

"No," he snapped, turning to glare at Rick. Behind him, Carl had either finished cleaning up the mess Negan had left or stopped so he could properly listen in. Shane didn't know which. He also didn't care about that. "No. He'll kill us, man, you know it. The kids. Ace. Michonne. Maggie, when he finds her- and he'll find her. Everyone. He'll do it. You know it." 

Rick shifted, setting down the bloody washcloth and giving Shane the concerned version of the stubborn bastard look. "You need to rest. You took a serious beating." 

"I've had worse." Shane dismissed that without a thought, because he had. Not that it mattered, because even if he hadn't he wouldn't be thinking about the bruises or the blood right now. "Rick." 

Rick gripped his shoulder and nodded, staring at something only he could see. "We will, brother. We will." 

He didn't know why, exactly, but Shane- Shane thought he meant it. Rick was finally on board. 

Rick took Judy from him and started for the stairs. "You're sleeping here tonight. You might have a concussion." 

"He didn't kick me that hard." 

"Not a question, 22. You're staying here." 

Shane rubbed at his eyes and thought about the silence in the house next door, Ace's art on the walls, her toothbrush on the sink. Her scent on the pillow, fading out already."Yeah, ok." 

Rick headed up the stairs and Carl fidgeted as he edged closer to Shane. Shane gave the kid a look, hoping he understood that he was still in some fucking deep shit, at least in Shane's book. Rick might have forgotten how that spaghetti sauce nightmare came to pass, but Shane hadn't. 

"Uncle Shane? Is Dad-" Carl whispered. He stopped, checked to make sure Rick was really out of earshot, and leaned over the bar toward Shane. He looked so damn hopeful, it twisted at Shane's heart, mostly because he understood. "Is Dad going to fight him?" 

Shane's eyes lingered where Rick had disappeared. "Honestly, kid? I don't know... but I think so." 

"Thank fuck," Carl swore fervently. 

Shane had to agree with that sentiment. 

Shane slept on the couch, what little sleep he actually got. He spent most of the night staring at Rick's ceiling and wondering what the hell had happened. To his life in general, but mostly just over the last few weeks. 

Three weeks. It'd been three weeks since his Slugger disappeared. A little less than that since Negan killed Glenn and Abraham.

It was too damn long. 

When dawn sent light creeping over the ceiling, he got up and got to work. By the time Rick, Michonne, and Carl came downstairs a few hours later, he had a couple of Ace's maps spread over the table, a notebook with a list of ideas at his elbow, and Judy in her high chair going nuts on some applesauce and trying to feed him bites. 

"I got an idea," he said without preamble. 

"The fuck you doin' up, 22?" Rick grunted, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. 

Michonne sighed and went into the kitchen. Shane ignored them both as Carl came to lean over his shoulder. 

"We ain't been into DC yet, for one," he said. "And there's bound to be guns in there. There's a whole police department. Bet we can get our hands on a map of the city, go right to it-" 

"You remember what Atlanta was like. We'd never get in or out," Rick disagreed. He took the glass of water and bag of granola Michonne handed him and muttered a thank you. 

Shane blinked when she did the same to him. "Thanks?" 

She shrugged. "You fed the baby, but I know you didn't eat. We're going to Hilltop. We need Gregory, and we need Maggie." 

Shane sipped his water and smiled. "That was my thought, too. But we don't need that asshole. We need Jesus. And Carol. Rick, any chance we can find her?" 

Michonne shook her head. "We need everyone. There's more of them than we even realized." 

Shane and Carl glanced at each other and then turned slowly to her. Judy shoved a bite of applesauce Shane's way and he leaned in automatically, eyes narrowed on Michonne's innocent expression. "What do you know, Samurai? You do somethin' risky while Rick and I were gone too?" 

"What, you the lump now?" she fired back serenely, but she leaned against the bar, thumbs hooked through her belt loops. "I went there. Like Carl, but less stupid." 

"Thanks, Michonne," Carl muttered. 

"You were stupid," Shane said, pointing at him without looking. "And we're gonna have a talk about how stupid. After Michonne says whatever she's got going on."

"I took one on the road. Made her drive there. When I saw it, the place, from afar? There's so many of them." 

Carl made a noise of agreement. "It's a factory. There's- they're everywhere. Aunt Ace is ok, but she's- Negan's-" 

"I know, kid," Shane said quietly. "So what do we do?" 

"We make a plan. Gather the others. Go to Hilltop, get Maggie, Sasha, Jesus. Gregory. I wish I knew where to even begin looking for Carol, but I don't. We've got everyone else though. So." Rick waved his water in Shane's direction. "We do this." 

He and Michonne exchanged one of those soft couple looks that told Shane they'd had a heart-to-heart during the night, and he nodded. 

Rick was back on board. 

"What are we waiting for, then? Call the family," he said.

Shane scanned the walls of Hilltop anxiously and sighed when everything seemed fine. He'd been- he'd been worried about this place too, what with Maggie and Sasha here, and Gregory being a dick. He should have come back to check up on them before now, but things had been non stop, it seemed. 

He still should have made it here. Maggie and the baby were too damn important to not keep a close eye on. 

He saw movement on the wall, and Maggie Greene Rhee was there like they'd summoned her, baseball cap on her head and eyes sweeping the cleared space around the Hilltop. Shane saw the moment she saw them, both hands going flat on the wall and her shoulders hunching like all the breath had gone out of her at once. 

He lifted one hand and waved, and she waved back, turned, and yelled in the king of booming voice she had to have learned yelling across fields to her daddy. "Sasha! Enid!" 

Shane glanced at Carl from the corner of his eye, cause that reminded him- "So. Wanna talk about your girlfriend?" 

"She's not my girlfriend," the kid muttered defensively. Shane bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Carl blushed. 

Maggie waved to them again and her head disappeared from the wall. Moments later, the gate creaked open, and Shane flicked the brim of Carl's hat with a grin. He strode through the gates before they were fully open, sweeping Maggie up into a hug to hide the way he wanted to cry at the sight of her. 

She held on as tightly as he did, and he didn't think about carrying her pale and unconscious through those gates, or carrying Glenn and Abraham as well. He finally pulled back enough to look her over, shaking his head at the tears in her eyes. 

"Stop that, Rhee. You ok? How's the baby?" he asked, swiping at the first tear that rolled down her cheek. 

She was studying his face with barely concealed horror. "We're fine. We're all fine. Shane, what happened to you? Wait-" 

Rick bumped him out of the way to crush Maggie in a hug as well, and she half-laughed as more tears slid down. 

"Rick," she breathed. "Rick." 

"You're ok?" 

"I'm ok. We're ok. All of us." She set her hands on his shoulders as Rick's head dropped, and Shane smiled when Sasha and Enid stepped up to the group. 

Sasha eyed his face but he shrugged and held his arms out. Sasha shook her head, rolled her eyes, and came in for a hug, and Shane held on to her as well as Rick cleared his throat. 

"You were right," he told Maggie. "Right from the start. You told us to get ready to fight. I didn't listen, and I couldn't. I can now." 

"Shane-" Sasha said urgently, pulling away. 

Shane caught movement from the corner of his eye and glanced over, then focused back on Maggie as she said Rick's name in the same wild tone Sasha had said his. Less than a heartbeat later he whipped his head back around to stare at the two people coming around one of the buildings. 

"Son of a bitch," he breathed. "How- Rick!" He snapped Rick's name, already in motion. 

Rick beat him there, simply because Rick hadn't taken a beating the day before and was about three steps closer anyway. Shane shoved his hands in his pockets and stared as Daryl nodded at them both, then ducked his head and just… collapsed in on Rick. 

Shit, Shane thought, anger swirling through him past the sheer shock. That fucker was going to pay. The only people he'd ever seen Daryl fucking Dixon hold onto like that were- 

Were Ace and Beth. He finished the thought grimly as Daryl let go of Rick, nodding and not really meeting Rick's eyes. It was Shane's turn to shove someone out of the way, and he did now, studying Dixon as Dixon studied him back. 

"The fuck happened to ya face?" Daryl asked, his voice sounding rusty and off, like he was even less used to speaking now than he'd ever been. 

Shane snorted. "Shut up, asshole." 

They looked at each other for another long heartbeat, and Shane thought- oh fuck it. He grabbed Dixon's shoulders much the way Rick had, and Daryl leaned into the hug without his usual flinch back. Shane's blood boiled again, but he thumped Ace's brother on the back and whispered around the lump in his throat. "Good to see you, man." 

Daryl pulled away first, nodding, but he kept a hand on Shane's shoulder as he looked at him. "She ain't here. Couldn't- I tried, but I couldn't get her out, and-" 

"I barely got him out," Jesus said softly. 

Shane hadn't paid any attention to the ninja man behind Dixon, too caught up in the wave of relief over seeing Daryl come around the corner, and he and Rick both focused on him now. 

"This your doing?" Rick asked. 

Jesus tilted his head and half-shrugged. "Sort of. He got himself out of the building. I got him out of the complex. We tried to find a way in for Ace, but-" 

"Weren't no use. I wouldn't'a made it out if I ain't had help," Daryl muttered. 

Shane's heart twisted, knowing leaving Ace there without her brother was somehow both worse and better than having all three Dixons there. Worse cause she'd feel so alone, but better cause now they had a Dixon back, and he, Daryl, and Rick could do anything. Also, she'd just be glad it was one less person she loved to worry about, but- 

"What about the lump?" he asked suddenly. "We haven't-" 

He saw the look on Daryl's face and shut up immediately. "Shit," he whispered, running his hand over his head. "Aw, shit." 

"What happened?" Rick asked, squeezing Daryl's shoulder when Dixon looked away and sniffed. "Negan?" 

"Rick, man-" Shane objected, knowing if it hurt him this much to think about Merle dead, it would be a thousand times worse for Daryl. 

Daryl, who'd stuck by his brother when no one else did. Daryl, who said over and over that Merle had saved them as kids. Shane knew, cause he knew his Dixons, that Daryl wouldn't want sympathy or comfort, but he kept his eyes steady on him when Daryl looked up through his hair and met their eyes. 

"Not sure, honestly. Wouldn't tell me. Just that he's dead. Saw 'im on the fence, too," he muttered. "As- as a walker." 

Shane closed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, brother." 

Daryl nodded wordlessly. He took a deep breath, then pulled a gun from under his shirt and extended it to Rick, butt first. Shane and Rick both stared at it until Shane started laughing. 

Of course. Of course, somehow, Daryl fucking Dixon managed to get out of Negan's grasp, and he brought Rick's fucking Python with him. 

Shane couldn't help it. He turned and hugged Daryl again, and this time he felt Dixon jerk in surprise. Shane didn't let go of him, though, not right away. Ace would have called it the manly-backslapping thing, he figured when he let Daryl go again. Either way, they both needed that. 

Shane met Daryl's eyes, even though it looked like it was difficult for him. "Come on, man. Let's go figure out how the fuck we're gonna rescue your sister."


	21. Lie #21: "I'm Going To Take Care Of Myself." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> pregnancy  
> miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> infertility  
> past child abuse

"Thought you couldn't have kids." 

He moved into your space again, so close you were fighting not to think about Will and a slap and spinning into a counter stomach first. You shrugged one shoulder and wondered if he'd take you stepping back as a sign of weakness. Unfortunately, he probably would. 

You put confidence you didn't feel into your voice. "So did I. That's what the doctor in the emergency room told me when I miscarried." 

He licked his lips, running a hand over his jaw. You noticed he'd shaved recently. He'd been talking about it for awhile. He looked blank and confused, then a smile worked its way from his lips to his eyes. 

"Well. Well, darlin', that is- that is somethin'." He stepped away from you, thank god, and you clenched one hand into a tight fist and kept your eyes wary on him. 

He sat down heavily on the couch and leaned back, half-laughing. "I mean, shit. Pregnant. And the doctors said you weren't supposed to be. You gotta admit, that is some powerful stuff! And the timing, too. Man. How far along are you, sweetheart?" 

"I don't know," you whispered. He was happy. He was happy? He thought it was his, same as you did. After all, it was the only real option. It wasn't like- yeah. It was his, and he knew it. "Dr. Carson says his brother could tell you, but he can't. Not very, though, clearly." 

Negan laughed again, grabbed Lucille, and swung her up in front of his face. "Hear that? I'm gonna be a daddy!" 

He shoved to his feet and you flinched. Negan noticed, and you knew he did, and you started cursing yourself up one side and down the other because you could not afford that shit. But he set the bat back down on the coffee table, and his movements softened as he strolled toward you. 

You forced your chin up and confident, and when he ran his hands down your arms and took your hands in his, you didn't rip away from him or puke on his shoes, both of which you considered strongly. He smiled, and it was warm and genuine, a real one that reached his eyes. 

"My princess. It's mine. I know it is," he said, voice a low caress. 

You swallowed hard and jerked your chin in a nod. "I think so, yes." 

He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you and setting his chin on top of your head. He stroked your hair and sighed. "Aww, sweetheart. This is some good news." 

You absolutely did not agree. 

He was being fucking strange. 

He'd helped you clean up the mess you'd made in your manic all-nighter, studying the paintings drying on the table and making intelligent comments about your changing styles and mediums. He'd especially liked the watercolor of the night sky, stars wheeling and the Milky Way a river of swirling color threading through them, framed out by the massive windows you'd been staring through. 

"You said you'd paint it, didn't you, darlin'?" He ran a finger down the edge of the paper as he stared. "I'll have someone find some frames for this shit. You should do the walls on the factory floor. Brighten it up. That is, if the doctor says the paint fumes won't be bad for the baby." 

"As long as I wear a bandanna, exposure to spray paint doesn't pose any health risks," you answered automatically, then wondered why the fuck you had. You didn't want to paint the factory floor. 

And you didn't give a shit about risking this baby. Right? 

He insisted you sleep as well. Being up all night and passing out for a few hours in a chair was determined to be detrimental to your health, and besides, he'd pulled an all nighter as well. He was going to take a nap, and you were going to join him. It wasn't optional. 

You took a nap. You didn't think you'd sleep, but you lay down and braced yourself, but he didn't so much as reach for your hand. You found yourself crashing out hard and fast. 

As you lay in his bed, staring at his ceiling and listening to him breathe, you wished you could crash right back out. You were doing your best to continue to not think. To not feel. 

It wasn't working, damn it. 

Darrie got out. Darrie was free. It was painful how glad you were, painful how much the thought of it sparked something wild and exhilarating in you. It was hope, you knew, but you didn't know why. 

Sure, now that he was gone, there was a chance your family could shake Negan's control. But it wouldn't matter for you. There was no getting to you, not up here in Negan's penthouse. Not now that you were pregnant. Negan would have you under lock and key, and there was no way in hell you'd be getting home. 

And besides, its not like they'd welcome you back with open arms anyway. You'd done worse than just sleeping with the enemy. 

You'd gotten knocked up by him. 

Negan stirred and groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "You're awake already, princess?" 

"I'm not a princess," you snapped, flinging the covers back and sitting up abruptly. Too abruptly, because your stomach decided to try to come out through your throat and you had to freeze and focus on breathing. 

Negan made a sympathetic noise, got up, and filled a glass with water. He brought it to you, and you took it because, ok, you needed it. Damn it. He smiled like he knew what you were thinking as you sipped, and since you were glaring at him, he probably did. 

"You're my princess now, Slugger, so just get used to it. Drink all of that, and then we're going out." 

"Out where?" 

"Oh, I've got some business to attend to, and you're gonna come with me," he said casually. He grabbed your sneakers and dropped down to his knees, taking your foot by the ankle and sliding the battered Converse over it. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" you demanded. 

He looked up at you with a smile. "Getting some practice in. You won't be able to reach your own feet in a couple of months, sweetheart." 

You drained the glass and pulled your foot away from him when he started to tie your shoe. "I can put my own shoes on, damn it. I can get my own water. I can decided what's good for me and what isn't," you snarled. 

"No, actually, you can't. At least not completely," he disagreed as he rose. That friendly, open expression was still in place, but his voice had gone hard at the edges. 

Your fingers stilled abruptly, but you forced them back into motion. "And why the fuck not?" 

"Because you react like that. See, you told me you lost a baby. And I know someone took a hand to you a time or two. I'm gonna suspect your old man, and probably a boyfriend too. Don't know which it was made you lose it, but here's the thing." Negan leaned in close to whisper in your ear, and you swallowed hard as your shoulders tightened. "I'm not going to let you lose this one. I know you don't like me much, darlin', and hell- that's what makes it fun. But I'm not that kind of asshole." 

"You don't know jack shit about me," you muttered, ducking away from him. "If you did, you'd know I can handle my own shit, thanks. I'm going to take care of myself. I'm going to take care of my child. I'm not losing another one, and it has nothing to do with you," you snapped, not realizing until you finished the sentence that you meant it. 

You wanted this baby, Negan's or not, and you were going to take care of it. Fucking hell, you swore mentally, running a hand through your hair and trying not to tear up. Sorry, Dickhead. 

"So then the kid tosses the bat down, rips the helmet off, and takes off like a fuckin' gazelle. Around the bases like they were nothin'!" 

Shane's drawl was getting heavier as he talked animatedly about Carl's Little League game, and you bit your cheek to keep from laughing. He gestured broadly, waving the phone he'd been showing you pictures and videos on as he mimed swinging the bat. 

"Look, Slugger, you gotta understand- this team? They're shit. I swear, these kids are getting worse, not better, every year. Every damn year," he said with a roll of his eyes. "But Carl got out there this mornin', and he was on fire! Home run, straight outta the park!" 

You laughed and grabbed Shane's Valhalla mug, refilling it as he shook his head and looked down at his phone with a smile. "You adore that kid, don't you?" 

"Carl? Hell yeah I do. Like he's my own," Shane said easily, no hesitation. 

You set the mug in front of him and glanced over the bar. It was still early- hell, Dickhead had been here before you'd even opened the doors officially- and you were enjoying the chance to catch up a little before you ran your ass off and didn't have time to do more than make faces at him while filling drafts. Since there was only one other customer in the bar, you hopped up onto the worktop and gestured for his phone. 

"Lemme see it again," you demanded, and Shane handed it over willingly. You watched Carl square up, settling his shoulders, and look around the stands. 

He was looking for Shane, you thought. When he made eye contact with the camera and smiled at Shane's yelled encouragement, you knew you were right. The screaming from the phone had you grinning harder than Carl's home run did. Shane was losing his shit on the other end, and so was Lori, just outside of the frame. 

"Where was Rick?" you asked, handing the phone back. 

Shane shrugged. "At the station. He got paperwork duty this week." 

"And you're just so broken up about it," you teased. 

He winked at you and sipped from his beer as he stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Not at all. Am sorry he missed that home run, though. Kid was pumped." 

"I bet." You eyed him, and he lifted an eyebrow at you in question. You shrugged. "You thinking about it?" 

"About what?" 

"Settling down. White picket fence, wife, dog, two point five kids of your own in Little League?" 

Shane choked on his beer. "The fuck? Where'd that come from, Slugger? You see me as the settlin' down type?" 

"Don't get offended," you said dryly. "I'm just asking. You're already doing all the domestic shit with Rick and Lori, so I figured maybe you were catching the bug." 

He snorted and shook his head. "Naw, shit, girl. He's my brother. That's my sister in law and my nephew. I love 'em to pieces, but I'm not looking for that for myself. What the hell. Lori asked me the same damn thing two days ago. Am I giving off a vibe?" 

You couldn't help the laugh. "Yeah, that's what it is. Lori got anyone in mind for you?" 

"Yeah, actually," Shane said, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. "You. How about it, Slugger? Wanna get hitched and have two point five kids? Dog's optional." 

You rolled your eyes at him. "How the hell are we gonna pull that off? I'm a bartender. Pregnant bartender is not good for business." 

"What? You think I'm gonna let you work when you're carrying my baby?" 

Jason paused on his way out of the kitchen. "What- what the fuck did I just hear?" 

You and Shane both cracked up, laughing so hard you couldn't breathe at Jason's utterly shocked expression. He waited, growing more annoyed as you and Shane glanced at each other and went off into fresh peals of laughter. Finally he tossed his hands up in surrender. 

"Fine. I get it. You two are being idiots again. If you knock her up and make her leave me alone in this hellhole, I'll find you, but the cops won't find your body," he threatened, pointing at Shane. 

"Jason, man- I am the cops," Shane managed, finally getting enough breath back to speak. "But duly noted."

"Well, I guess that plan's shot," you said with mock sadness, sliding off the worktop to hook your arm through Jason's. "It seems I'm already spoken for. Lori will have to find you someone else to settle down with." 

"You joke, but she might," Shane muttered, rolling his eyes as he sipped from his mug. 

Jason freed his arm from yours and sent a look between the two of you. "You guys are messed up, you know that right?"

"Yeah." 

The door opened and a group of laughing, chattering women spilled in, somewhere in their thirties and looking like they'd already started the party. 

"Girl's night," Jason muttered. "Get ready for shots." 

"Here we go," you agreed cheerfully. You exchanged your usual fist bump and you shot Shane another grin. "If you want it, better order it now, Dickhead." 

He smiled and leaned back against the wall, settling into his usual position when he held down the bar and you were busy. He and Tim would no doubt get into a conversation later about security and bar fights, and he'd sneak out when you finally got a cigarette break to chat with you. You didn't know what he found so entertaining about leaning against the wall and watching a bar full of drunks on a Saturday night, but you were glad he was here. You'd have fun tomorrow, since he was crashing on your couch tonight. 

He lifted his mug and waved it at you. "I've got what I want, Slugger. Get to work. Toss some bottles and shit; keep me entertained." 

You flipped him off and headed toward the group already giggling around the drink menu. 

He took you over half the Sanctuary, making his announcement to everyone he passed. Each time, you wanted to die a little more. 

The only saving grace was Darrie and Merle didn't have to see this shit. 

When he finally let you go back to the wives' quarters- "Take a nap, sweetheart. We're gonna find you one of those big pillows, and I'll send someone with some fruit in a bit"- you shoved past everyone's wide eyes without a word, heading for your room. Sherry would handle whatever crises were happening now, you thought grimly, cause you'd noticed Amber with the bottle and the tears. She needed to get a handle on that. 

The door to your room shut and you slumped against it when it hit you. Sherry wasn't here anymore. No wonder they all looked so fucking lost. 

For a minute, you considered going back out there and finding out what was going on. Instead, you took three steps forward and collapsed onto your bed, curling into a ball and shoving your face into your pillow. 

Darrie was gone. Merle was dead. You were pregnant with Negan's fucking demon spawn baby, and- 

And you needed to keep it. 

It'd be easier if it went away, you thought dully. Like Mark's baby, the one you got killed smarting off to Will. You'd wanted that one to go away, so you didn't have to think about it. It'd be better if your messed-up body just handled this one its own, too. 

Better, sure. But you hated the thought of it. 

You didn't want to lose another baby. Maybe it was Negan's devil spawn, but it was your devil spawn too, and you wanted it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

You wished you could tell Darrie. Have him give you that wild look, take a deep breath, and say it would all be ok. You wished you could have Merle call you a dumbass and then hold your hand. You wished- 

It didn't do any good to wish. The first tear slid down your cheek and you pressed your lips together. So you'd just sleep instead. Maybe it would be different when you woke up.


	22. Lie #22: "He Wasn't Losing His Shit And Taking Everyone's Heads Off, Now Was He?" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

Turns out, Maggie and Sasha had saved Hilltop. That fucker Simon had sneaked in somehow, opened the gates, and set a fuck ton of fires to draw the dead. It had worked, and it'd been Maggie Rhee and Sasha Williams who handled it. Along with one long-haired ninja, who seemed to be more pissed off over Gregory being a tool than even Shane or Rick were, and that was saying something since Shane already wanted to punch the fucker's pompous face in.

"We aren't trade partners. We aren't friends and we never met. We don't even know each other," the tool insisted. He sat behind his desk and glared at Rick. "I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees- at great personal risk!" 

"Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place," Jesus snapped. "Your courage was inspiring."

Shane eyed the ninja in surprise. He clearly didn't like Gregory, but Jesus had mostly defended him every time Shane had talked to him. Now he stood with his arms crossed and sarcasm dripping from every word. Shane wanted to applaud, to be honest. 

"Hey. Don't you work for me? Aren't we friends?" Gregory sneered back. 

Shane ran a hand over his head, hit a bruise, and winced. They needed to get this shit under control, damn it. He was trying to figure out just how to go about doing that when Rick jumped in headfirst, and Shane focused on not cracking a tooth from grinding his teeth as Rick and Gregory went back and forth. 

"Sometimes we don't get to choose what our life looks like," Gregory said dismissively. "Sometimes, Ricky, you have to count the blessings you have." 

"The name thing," Shane found himself saying, tone much softer and less violent than he was feeling. Gregory's eyes shot to him and Shane lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "You do that on purpose. Makes you feel superior, doesn't it? Rick, he's as much a manipulative bastard as Negan is. You wanna count what blessings you have? Better do it quick. Negan's coming for all of 'em."

Gregory opened his mouth to speak, but Maggie stepped forward instead. "How many people can we spare? How many people can fight?" 

"'We?'" Gregory scoffed. "I don't even know how many people we have, Margaret. And does it even matter?" 

Shane gave it up right then, along with every last shred of respect he had for the man. Didn't even know how many people were in the community he claimed to run. Shane knew what a futile effort looked like, and he turned away in disgust as Gregory got ruder and more of an asshole. He met Jesus' eyes across the room and Jesus held his gaze, fury sparking and churning under that serene expression Shane associated with him. 

Shane nodded and Jesus nodded back. Whatever the outcome of this bullshit, Jesus was in their corner. Jesus was going to help them get Shane's girl. 

"What the hell, man? You're either with us, or ya ain't. Ya sittin' over there talkin' outta both sides of your mouth!" Daryl's explosion brought Shane back to the conversation, and like everything else, it did no good. 

But it did Shane good. Dixon looking like himself, that fiery trademark temper and the way he'd straightened and squared his shoulders- Shane was relieved. Of course then Gregory kicked them out- with a 'go out the back'- and Rick looked Shane's way. Shane shrugged, cause this was obviously a lost cause, brother, and to be honest if he stayed in that room much longer he'd end up decking the man. 

Rick jerked his head, and their people filed out, Jesus included. 

"Yeah, well, we don't need him anyway," Daryl muttered, automatically joining the small knot Rick, Michonne, and Shane made. 

"Yeah, that's right. Cause we have Maggie, Sasha, and Jesus here," Rick agreed. 

Shane snorted. "What I said we needed all along, ain't it?" 

"And… Enid," Maggie said slowly as the front door opened. 

"Hey, um-" Enid started, sounding out of breath and smiling. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" she assured Sasha. "It's just… Come outside!" 

Shane was intrigued. So was everyone else. Carl already looked proud as hell, and Shane bit his lip to cover the smile at the kid's serious crush. 

Then again, when they got out the door, the proud was clearly deserved. A small group stood in front of Barrington House's steps, looking nervous but determined. It seemed Enid had bypassed Gregory all together, going straight to the people. Maggie stepped forward, and in minutes, she had herself a small army. 

Shane knew that woman could do anything. 

"It's a start," Michonne said. 

"We'll get more." 

"It still won't be enough," Michonne told Sasha warily. 

Rosita's tone was sharp. "No, it won't." 

Shane thought the same thing, but he also thought whatever Rosita's problem was, she needed to fucking figure out before it bit them all in the ass. It wasn't that he didn't get it, cause he fucking did, but his girl was up there with Negan right now, and he wasn't losing his shit and taking everyone's heads off, now was he? 

"We find the right stuff, then maybe we don't need the numbers," Daryl put in. "Blow 'em up. Burn 'em to the ground." 

Shane and Rick exchanged a glance at that. 

"You said there weren't just soldiers with the Saviors, but there were workers there. People that didn't have a choice," Tara said slowly. 

"Not to mention your sister," Shane muttered. 

Daryl scoffed. "Getting my sister outta there is the fuckin' first thing we do, Dickhead. After that? We gotta win." 

"Call me Dickhead one more time," Shane said, voice bitingly pleasant. "Do it." 

"We need more hands; another group," Rick cut in before Daryl could respond. Shane was glad. He didn't want to have to get in a fistfight with Ace's brother this soon after getting his ass back on their side. "Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back. If they come looking for Daryl, we need to be there." 

"You don't have to get back. Not yet," Jesus interjected. All eyes turned to him as he pulled a radio from his pocket, and Shane felt himself smile. "It's one of theirs. Long range. We can listen in, keep track of them." 

"I knew there was a reason Ace likes you so damn much," Shane said, clapping Jesus on the shoulder and taking the radio from him. "Good fuckin' job, man." 

"Thanks. There's more," Jesus muttered. 

Shane stopped playing with his new toy and frowned at Jesus. "What?" 

"I think it's time we introduced you to Ezekiel," Jesus said slowly. A slight smile spread over his lips. "King Ezekiel." 

Shane, along with everyone else, blinked in silence. "Damn it. You enjoy that shit way too much." 

Jesus' smile spread. "I need to get some things together. Give me ten minutes." 

Dixon sat staring at the ground, opening and closing the snap on a Bowie knife’s sheath. Shane shoved his hands in his pockets and walked over to the picnic table he sat on, leaning against it casually. 

He watched people- including theirs- milling around in a flurry of activity. “You ok, man?” 

Daryl snorted. 

"Yeah, I get that," Shane sighed. "Glad to have you back. Was worried about you." 

"Shoulda been worried about yourself. What the fuck happened to ya face?" 

Shane shot him a look, but Daryl was still staring at his hands. "Saviors. Decided they didn't like mine and Aaron's attitudes. We're fine. How about you? You look better than- well, than last time I saw you." 

"M'fine," Daryl muttered. "Some bruises. Tried to escape, before he brought us to Alexandria. Was a trap. Got beat up. Saw Merle on the fuckin' fence." 

"I'm sorry," Shane whispered. He was. The lump was a pain in his ass for months in Atlanta, someone tolerated only because of Ace and Daryl, but Merle had become his friend. He'd saved their asses more than once, made Shane laugh, and took care of Ace. 

And Shane knew how it would fuck with both of them to know their older brother was gone. 

"Seriously, I'm sorry," he repeated into the silence. 

Daryl nodded and sniffed, pulling the knife free from the sheath and stabbing it down into the picnic table. "My fault." 

"How the fuck you figure that?"

"I didn't go lookin' for 'em soon enough. I let 'em split off to look for fuckin' supplies on their own. Shit, we trace it back far enough, I'm the one who wanted to help that asshole and Sherry. If I'd said 'fuck it' and hauled ass back home like Ace wanted to, she wouldn't be there alone an' Merle would still be alive." 

Shane processed that one for a minute, delivered mostly to Shane's feet and in so quiet a voice he'd strained to catch certain parts. He didn't even know how to respond, and he shifted and shoved a hand through his hair as he tried to figure it out. 

Daryl met his eyes. "I'm sorry. For leavin' her there. Didn't wanna, but didn't know what the fuck else to do." 

"Shut up, man," Shane snapped. That he knew how to respond to, because it was some bullshit. "What are you talking about? She'll be more free to fuck shit up for that bastard now that she doesn't have you to worry about. Besides, now that we've got a Dixon back, we can end this for good." 

Daryl's face twisted and he scoffed as he looked away. "Man, I ain't worth shit. What's with the sudden blind faith?" 

"One thing I know for certain?" Shane said slowly, reaching out to grip Daryl's shoulder. Daryl glanced at him, Dixon blue eyes staring not quite at Shane's own. "You'll move mountains for each other. Always have. Negan's your mountain. Grab a shovel." 

He waved acknowledgement at Rick's whistle as he shoved off the picnic table. "Come on, brother. Let's go." 

"It's called the Kingdom?" Shane asked as they piled out of the SUV. 

Jesus nodded. "Yeah. I didn't name it," he said with a shrug. 

Shane couldn't be sure, but he thought that was Carl smothering a laugh. 

"How much farther?" Rick asked, looking around. 

"Well," Jesus said, drawing the word out a little. "Technically, we're already here. I mean, we're always here. But here we are-- at the Kingdom. Well, it's outer edge." 

Shane's eyes narrowed on the ninja. That response was snarkier than usual, and if Shane had known him a little better, he'd have said Jesus was nervous. Where the fuck had he brought them? 

Daryl stuck his head out of the SUV. "Hey. What the hell are we waiting on?" 

"Waiting for them," Jesus said with a smile, pointing up the road. 

Horses, archaic Shakespearean speeches, and Jesus being… well, fucking Jesus, Shane thought in disgust. He and Daryl walked together in silence, Daryl looking mutinous and Shane mostly just confused. 

Some dude who called himself king. His people rose horses and had body armor and spears, and came riding up demanding to know "who dared trespass on the king's lands". Requesting an audience with the king, and the word games Shane knew Jesus had just played with 'like minded communities.'

"Like minded how?" Richard, one of Ezekiel's men, had asked. 

"We live. We trade. We fight the dead… sometimes others," Jesus had said mildly. 

Richard had eyed him, told them all to line up, and agreed when Daryl said it was a waste of time. Then Michonne had accessed some of the Grimes' magic, Rick and Carl had handed over their only two guns, and they followed these guys and their horses further into the old-South brickwork suburbs. 

Shane had a feeling this was going to be a weird fucking day, and he was already tired. His face hurt, as did the rest of him. 

He stared along with everyone else. 

It was thriving. That much was clear. Gardens grew neat and tended. People moved among the brickwork buildings, relaxed, clean, smiling and talking. And there were so many of them- 

"They have the numbers," Michonne said, a cat got the canary smile on her lips. 

"But can they fight?" 

Jesus smirked at Rosita. "Oh, they can fight."

"Maybe," Daryl grunted. 

Shane stood beside Rick and watched a team of men in body armor running laps together. Maybe wasn't it. They could. They trained, they grew, they prospered. 

So, what was the catch? He wondered. 

"Morgan?" Tara asked, sounding delighted. 

Shane and Rick both jerked, turning to see one of the last people they expected walking out of a building marked 'theater'. He grabbed Tara in a hug, eyeing Rick with as much bewildered confusion as Rick eyed him. 

"How do you know each other?" Richard asked. 

"We go back to the start," Rick said softly. Morgan nodded and smiled. 

"Well, the king is ready to see you," Richard declared. 

The rest of the group followed him in, but Rick, Daryl, and Shane hung back. "Did you find Carol?" Rick asked urgently. 

"I did, yeah," Morgan answered. 

"Where is she? She ok?" Daryl's concern was instant and aggressive, and Shane felt a lot the same. 

They needed Carol. Add in Carol, and Dixon, and Jesus and Maggie, and anything this place might have to give them- they could do it. They could win. 

"She was here, and then she left. You know, she wasn't too happy, me following her. She wanted to get away from us. From everyone," Morgan said softly. Shane could hear the concern in his voice, and he wondered once again if he should have made Carol talk to someone. Him, Ace, Daryl- any of them would have been good options. 

"When I found her, she was shot," Morgan continued. "It was just a graze. I got her back here. They got doctors; they're good." 

"Was it them?" Daryl demanded. 

Morgan nodded. "It was. She had crossed with some of them, and one of them followed her, tried to kill her, but I stopped him. I killed him. I had to."

Rick shifted, looking down and looking vaguely guilty as his jaw tightened. Shane hit that same damn bruise on his head and wondered why in the world Morgan had thought he could go through life without killing, but he was distracted when he kept talking. 

"Carol was here. She got help. Now she's gone," he said simply. 

Shane's shoulders slumped, but he nodded. That was it. No Carol. If she was gone and didn't want to be found? She wouldn't be found. "Aight," he said slowly. "Let's go meet the fucking king."


	23. Lie #23: "Have It Your Way Then." -- Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> mention of past child abuse  
> mentions of torture, psychological and physical

What the actual fuck? Shane thought blankly. It had taken a second for his eyes to adjust in the theater, and he'd stopped short like Rick and Daryl when they almost ran into the knot of their people in the doorway. 

"Jesus!" A booming voice from the stage declared. "It pleases me to see you, old friend." 

Shane wrenched his eyes away from the honest to God motherfucking tiger to stare at the owner of the voice instead, though shit, that was hard. It was, after all, a fucking tiger. 

"It pleases him indeed!" The man in red, holding a battle ax, was clearly Ezekiel's bodyguard. He gestured broadly, and Shane felt himself smile when the man on the throne sighed. 

"Jerry," he snapped, and Jerry looked utterly unconcerned. 

Ace should be seeing this shit, Shane thought. He ran a hand over his head and wondered how the fuck she'd paint it, because she would. Throne, king, tiger, bodyguards and all, his Slugger would have been sketching like mad. 

Or trying not to laugh her ass off. 

"Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel? Are these new allies you've brought me?" 

"Indeed they are, Your Majesty. This is-" Jesus turned with a gesture and saw the whole group of them crowded in the door, no doubt with expressions in various states of shock and surprise. 

Shane glanced at Rick to one side and Daryl to the other. Rick's eyes were fixed on the tiger, but Shane would have bet good money Daryl was studying the man. Jesus shot a look between the throne and them, and Shane pinched the bridge of his nose as Jesus looked contrite. 

"Oh, right. I forgot to mention that--" 

"Yeah, a tiger," Rick said dryly, like it was nothing. 

Shane choked on a laugh and shot Jesus a look. "Don't lie, asshole. You didn't forget anything. You did it on purpose." 

Jesus was spared responding to that when the tiger roared. "This is Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people," Jesus called, heading back down the center aisle toward the stage. Rick followed, and Shane shoved off the wall with a shrug and went at his brother's back. 

"I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers." Ezekiel had dreadlocks, feathers, and a scepter, with the tiger's chain wrapped loosely in one hand. He was also enjoying the shit out of their reactions to him. 

So was Jerry, the bodyguard in red. 

"Now what brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the king?" 

Shane had so many fucking questions, starting with 'was this guy for real' and wrapping back around to that fucking tiger. The cat turned its head toward Shane and yawned, giving him a good view of sharp teeth and long tongue, and he added some questions about the strength of the chain to his list. 

Rick was still silently staring, and Shane elbowed him in the side. Rick shot him a glare, but it worked. "Ezekiel," he said as he turned back. "King Ezekiel. Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom-- all three of our communities have something in common."

Shane would never understand, he thought in mild disgust, how the hell Rick did this shit. The imploring look, the speech voice- Rick went from dumbfounded in shock to sounding like he might have rehearsed what he was saying in the car on the way over in the space of one sentence. Shane might have understood it if Rick had practiced, but Shane knew for a fact the man was just… talking. That fucking Grimes magic. 

"We all serve the Saviors." Rick spat the name, and Shane felt his own lip curl. "Alexandria already fought them once, and we won. We thought we took out the threat, but we didn't know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We've been told you have a deal with them, that you know them. Then you know they rule through violence and fear." 

Shane glanced at Jesus when the king's eyes shifted from Rick to the ninja and went hard. Turns out, Jesus wasn't supposed to mention the Kingdom's deal to anyone. Ezekiel hadn't told his people about it, apparently. 

"Just like a fuckin' king," Daryl muttered in Shane's ear. Shane didn't move cause if he did he'd burst into laughter while Jesus was trying to smooth things over. 

"We brought you into our confidence. Why did you break it?" Ezekiel demanded. 

Jesus didn't sound at all cowed by the tone or the look. "Because I wanted you to hear Rick's plans." 

Ezekiel didn't exactly look mollified, Shane thought. But he focused on Rick instead of being pissed at Jesus, and Rick took up his speech again like there hadn't been an interruption. 

"We came to ask the Kingdom, to as you, for help in fighting the Saviors. For freedom, for all of us." 

Ezekiel looked away. "What you are asking is very serious." 

"Several of our people, good people, were killed by the Saviors. Brutally," Michonne said, stepping up to Rick's side. 

"Who?" 

Shane turned to Morgan, leaning in the corner. "Abraham. Glenn. Spencer, Olivia. He's got my- he's got Ace," he added. "Merle died while with him. He's got Eugene hostage. Had Daryl, but he escaped." 

"Every second he's out here, he's a target," Rosita spat. "You gonna say you were right?" 

"No," Morgan said softly. "I'm-- I'm just real sorry they're gone." 

"Negan murdered Glenn and Abraham. Beat them to death," Rick said. 

Sasha shifted. "Terrorized the Hilltop, set loose walkers just to make a point." 

"He got his hands on my girlfriend, and now she's his wife. And not his only one," Shane muttered, hands curling into fists he tried to smooth down. "And you don't know my Slugger. No way she did that willingly." 

"I used to think the deal was something we could live with," Jesus added. "A lot of us did. But that's changing. So let's change the world, Your Majesty." 

For a minute, Shane thought it would work. The combination of Jesus and Rick fucking Grimes made magic in a tiny theater for a heartbeat- and then Morgan opened his mouth. Rick spun a story about a rock in the road that everyone hated and only one person bothered to do the work to remove, but the king wasn't swayed. 

Shane knew for damn sure that Mrs. Grimes had never told Rick any story of the sort, either. Shane wondered idly where in the Rick had even heard it, or if the man had made it up on the spot.

"I invite you all to sup with us, and stay till the morn," Ezekiel declared, rising with the tiger. 

Rick got that stubborn bastard look, hands on his hips. "Yeah, we need to get back home." 

"I shall deliver my decree in the morn." Ezekiel banged his staff against the floor twice, and just like that, it was over. 

Carl flopped backward onto Shane's bed with a groan. 

"Didn't you get your own room, kid?" Shane asked, sitting beside him to start prying his shoes off. 

"Yeah, but Dad and Michonne are in it too." 

Shane's lips twitched. "You got a problem with that?" 

"No. Just- it's a bit weird sometimes," Carl muttered, waving vaguely.

Shane shifted to lean back against the wall and patted Carl's leg cause it was the closest part of him. "I get that. So-" 

The door slammed open and he turned, surprised, as Daryl stalked in and tossed himself onto the floor, not looking at either of them. "Hey. Cain't sleep." 

"Hey. Why not?" Shane asked, frowning at the circles under Daryl's eyes. He needed to. He probably needed a fucking coma and an IV drip, not to mention a therapist and a fifth of whiskey.

Dixon shrugged. "Used to sleepin' on the floor in a closet with music so loud I cain't think. Bed feels too damn soft." 

Rage, pure and hot, flooded Shane and his hands clenched into fists. "The fuck?" 

"Ain't nothin'. I'll go," he muttered, starting to rise. 

"The hell you will," Shane shot back. "Sit your ass back down. Thinking you need to talk, man." 

Daryl's scoff was loud and clear, and Shane rolled his eyes. Fine. Daryl wanted to just sit in his floor and chew on his thumbnail in stony silence, Shane would ignore him and focus on the kid, since he had a few topics to cover with Carl as well. 

"Have it your way then," he muttered. "Carl. About the sneaking out and the machine gun, 'cause we haven't had a chance to discuss that shit yet." 

"Yeah," Daryl snarled. "How the hell ya end up in the Sanctuary?" 

"The what?" Shane asked. 

Carl sat up, shrugged, and bounced one leg, not looking either of them in the eyes. "Sanctuary is what they call the factory. I hid in a supply truck and stole a gun. Jesus did it too." 

"Jesus had the sense to bail before he got there. I heard the story already," Shane said dryly. "You killed two men, according to that bastard." 

"I'd have killed more too," Carl shot back. "I was going for him." 

"Kid-" 

There was a knock on the door and Shane thunked his head against the wall and groaned. "What now? Come in!" As the door opened, Shane glared pointedly at Daryl. "At least whoever that is had the decency to fuckin' knock. Hey, Rick. Michonne. Looking for this?" He hooked a thumb toward Carl as he said it. 

"Kind of. Daryl, glad you're in here already. Wanted to talk about tomorrow with you two, actually." Rick pulled the chair from the desk for Michonne to sit in, then dropped to the floor at Daryl's side. "Carl, everything ok?" 

"Yeah, he's fine. Just explaining why the hell he thought the stunt he pulled was a good idea," Shane said with another look Carl's way. "You Grimes boys are gonna make me grey before I'm old, you know that, right? Don't be reckless like your dad."

"Excuse me, 22, but you're the one who-" 

Shane took a page from Daryl's book and snorted. "I only do shit to keep you from doin' shit, Rick. You're the one with a family to get back to, after all." 

Rick stared at him blankly and Shane lifted an eyebrow when he didn't laugh. "What?" 

"You do all that stupid shit when we were partners cause I had Lori and Carl to get home to?" Rick asked softly. 

Shane shrugged. "Yeah, brother. Thought you knew that." 

"That's fucking stupid, Shane, you could have-" 

"Maybe y'all should stow ya domestic drama an' we should talk about what the hell we're gonna do to get my sister outta there." Daryl cut off Rick, talking around the thumbnail he was wearing down, and Shane hauled himself up off the wall, leaned forward, and smacked Daryl's hand away from his mouth. 

Daryl stared at him like he wasn't sure what the fuck had just happened and Shane shrugged. These damn Dixons wouldn't take care of themselves; Shane would just do it for them. 

Michonne started laughing, a low chuckle with a watery edge to it, and all eyes turned her way. She shook her head and dashed at her eyes. "You four are the most dysfunctional family." 

"Naw," Daryl dismissed. "This ain't dysfunctional. That was me an' Ace an' Merle an' Will." 

"That wasn't dysfunctional, that was fucking abusive," Shane snarled. 

"Shit, man, ya weren't even there." 

Shane shrugged. "I've met you all. Glad that bastard who called himself your father is dead. Speaking of dead. Negan." 

"Excellent segue," Rick muttered as Carl smothered a laugh. "I don't think Ezekiel's gonna be any help. I'm hoping I'm wrong, but-" 

Shane grunted. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' you're right. Where's that gonna leave us? We doing this on our own?" 

"Just have to find some good shit and burn the place down," Daryl said with a shrug. "Look, they got manpower, sure, but it's- ain't like us. Ain't a community. It's a fuckin' snake den." 

"How'd you get out?" Michonne asked softly. 

"Been wondering that myself," Shane admitted. "Jesus said he ran into you outside, but you had help getting out there?" 

Daryl stared at his feet, hair falling in his face. "Someone slipped me the key to a bike. Unlocked the door to the closet. The cell, where they kept me when I weren't workin' for 'em." 

"Ace?" Shane asked softly. 

Daryl shook his head. "Naw. Negan watched her too damn close. She weren't allowed near me. Only saw her a couple times." 

"Then who?" It was Carl who asked, his one eye narrowed in thought. "Negan and his- the women- it's weird. But everyone's afraid of him, it seemed, except Aunt Ace and the other lady." 

"Sherry," Daryl muttered. "I think it was Sherry." 

"Sherry. That bastard Dwight's Sherry? One you tried to help?" Shane asked. 

Daryl nodded. "She came to see me a few times. Tried to explain. I didn't listen. Then someone unlocks the door, slips the key an' a note under it, says 'go now.' Figured it was another trap, but… had to try. I fuckin' went. Worked. Killed some bastard. Then Jesus showed up. We hauled ass." 

Shane met Rick's eyes. An ally on the inside? Had possibilities, but it was fucking unreliable. She'd backstabbed them before, and besides, Daryl didn't know it was her. And it wasn't like they could do anything with it anyway. 

"Well, whoever it was," Rick said, gripping Daryl's shoulder. "We're grateful. Come on, Carl. Michonne. We should get some sleep. You two as well. We will get her out. Soon." 

Shane knew a Rick Grimes promise when he heard one, and he nodded. He slapped Rick's back and Carl's as they filed out, everyone muttering good nights, and waited until the door shut behind them. Daryl still hadn't moved, and was picking at his thumbnail again. 

"You stayin' here?" Shane asked. "Don't make me hit your hand again." 

Daryl snorted without looking up, but he did stop. "Ya mind?" 

"Shit, man, I don't fuckin' care. Want the bed or the floor? We ain't sharing." 

Daryl started laughing and Shane grinned. 

"This is life here," Ezekiel declared. 

Shane watched the archers, one missing a leg and one missing a hand, coaching the gaggle of attentive kids. One girl, barely older than Carl had been when all this started, lifted the basic long bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly. 

Dead center on the target. Shane was impressed. 

"Every day. But it came at a cost." Ezekiel turned from the archery class and faced them all.

Shane saw the refusal in his eyes and sighed. He hooked his thumbs through the gun belt he put on every damn day, even though the holster was empty, and tried not to hate the man. 

Ezekiel met his eyes like he knew what Shane was thinking, then turned to Rick. "And I wanted more of this. I wanted to expand. To create more places like this. Men and women lost their limbs. Children lost their parents. Because I sent them into battle against the wasted when I did not need to."

"This isn't the same," Rick insisted, stubborn bastard expression in place. 

"It is." 

"It isn't," Rick repeated. "The dead don't rule us. The world doesn't look like this outside your walls. People don't have it as good. Some people don't have it good at all." 

"I have to worry about my people." 

See, thing was, Shane got that. He did. He'd been worried about his people and only his people since the dead started snacking on the living, and that's why he was here. He was worried about his people. This guy was the same. 

Shane still hated him. 

"You call yourself a damn king. You sure as hell don't act like one," Daryl scoffed. 

Shane disagreed with that. A leader did have to look out for his people. Even if that meant shit he found hard to live with. Thing was, though, Ezekiel was thinking about the right now. He wasn't thinking about what would happen when the Saviors decided their deal wasn't good enough. He wasn't thinking about what would happen when the Hilltop and Alexandria had been bled dry and the Saviors demanded even more of the Kingdom. 

"All of this came at a cost," Ezekiel insisted, staring at Daryl. Dixon didn't fucking flinch. "It was lives, arms, legs. The peace we have with the Saviors is uneasy. But it is peace. I have to hold onto it. I have to try." 

Shane rubbed at the bruise on his head and gave up. Now what? Now fucking what? He wondered. How the hell- 

"Although the Kingdom cannot grant you the aid you desire, the King is sympathetic to your plight." Ezekiel's voice lifted into his own version of speech mode, and Shane watched Richard's reaction and that of Morgan and the kid with the staff doing aikido in the background. 

Ezekiel had dissent in the ranks. Shane had known that already. Richard wanted to fight, and it was Morgan's advice that had tipped the scales away from that. Pacifist bastard was going to get people killed, Shane thought angrily. He had to know- all life might be precious, but there were those who didn't think so. Those who thought all life should be used. 

"I offer our friend Daryl asylum for as long as he requires it. He will be safe here. The Saviors do not set foot inside these walls." 

Shane and Daryl scoffed at the same time. "How long to ya think that's gonna last?" Daryl asked pointedly. 

He turned and walked away, and Shane followed. He'd heard enough.


	24. Lie #24: "It Was Their Problem." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

Middle of the night, and you couldn't sleep. 

You rolled out of bed with a sigh, running a hand through your hair and staring around the darkened room. You had to not be here anymore. You had to not be in this room, in the wives' quarters. In the fucking Sanctuary. 

That one wasn't possible, but the first two were. 

You scooped up your art bag as you slipped out, not bothering with shoes. You thought you'd head to the roof, do some drawing by moonlight, but for some reason you found yourself going down a couple floors instead. You went with it, wondering what they'd done with Eugene, since Negan had brought him back. 

Was he in the cell? Darrie's cell? He'd break for sure. Shit, he probably already had. 

Not everyone was as strong as your brothers. 

Laura leaned against the wall near one of the rooms, up a few halls from the cell. Her bored and tired expression didn't change when she saw you. "What are you doing?" 

You shrugged. "Wandering. Can't sleep. Anyone in the cell?" 

She hesitated. "D." 

"D?" 

"He let your brother escape," Laura said with a shrug. "Boss had him beaten, tossed in."

You scoffed. "Good for him. What about- what about Eugene?" 

"What about him?" Laura asked, eyes going wary. "I can't let you talk to him. You should know that." 

"I don't want to talk to him," you answered, and it was true. You didn't. You just wanted to know where he was. "I was just wondering." 

She jerked her head at the door beside her. "He's in there. He's a fucking coward, isn't he?" 

"Yeah," you agreed. "I'll see you later." 

"Peace," Laura muttered, and closed her eyes. 

You wandered down the hall, toward the cell. Honestly, you didn't know what you were going to do when you got there, but you were going all the same, it seemed. 

No music was playing this time. You leaned your back against the door and didn't know if you were grateful or angry. You didn't want to think about Darrie in there, that pop beat painfully loud, and this way- 

"You awake, D?" you whispered. 

There was silence long enough you didn't think he'd respond. "What are you doin' down here?" 

"What happened to my brother?" 

You heard him shift closer, heard the sigh. "Honestly? I don't know." 

"What the hell, Dwight." You closed your eyes, sliding down the door to sit and draw your knees to your chest. "I mean- what the hell."

He scoffed. "Yeah. Think he had help. What happened to Sherry?" 

You shrugged before you realized he couldn't see it and laid your cheek on your knees instead, staring sightlessly at the floor. "I dunno. I'm pregnant." 

"I heard. Congrats." 

"Fuck off," you muttered. 

He half -laughed. "Yeah, that's fair." 

Silence stretched until you shifted and sighed. "Beat the shit out of you, didn't he?" 

"Not just him." 

You nodded at nothing and shoved to your feet. "Hey, D? I'm sorry you're in there, and I'm sorry you're hurt, but I'm not sorry my brother's free." 

"That's fair too," he whispered. "Goodnight, Ace." 

You didn't respond to that.

"I just want to know if there's anything you can do about the fucking nausea," you snarled at Dr. Carson. "I puked twice this morning. I'm over it." 

"Hmmm." Carson shined a small light in your eyes and you flinched away from it with a glare. "We'll see. I'll have to check the medicines, but I imagine if I do not Negan will send people to search for it. I do have some prenatal vitamins." 

You blinked as he turned to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle. "Why the hell?" 

"Things are found. Medicine is stockpiled. They're good for everyone, if vegetables become in short supply." Carson dumped several into a smaller bottle and handed it to you. "That's for a week. Then come see me again." 

You sighed and shoved a hand through your hair. "Can you tell me how far along I am?" 

"Not without an ultrasound machine, I'm afraid." Dr. Carson eased you back and poked at your abdomen some more. "Are you sleeping better?" 

You scoffed. 

He sighed. "I figured as much. Ace, you need to understand that this is it. This is your life now. It is everyone's life now." 

"You killed my brother. I don't want anything from you but something to stop puking," you mumbled, pushing his hands away and sitting up. "I don't want your pro-Negan philosophy. I'm here, aren't I?" 

"But for how long?" 

You froze. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

Carson pulled his gloves off with a snap and gave you a serious look. "You and Sherry are so alike. Big hearts. Big hearts don't last around here. You care too much, Ace." 

You couldn't stop the cynical laugh. "Oh, Doc. I don't care at about anything." 

"Yes, you do. Come in, Dwight. He finished with you?" 

You turned and eyed D as he limped in. The man looked bad, blood down his face from a cut above his eye, pale, limping. He'd had a rough night. Look in his eyes said the physical wasn't the worst part. 

"Carson. He said stitch me up. Fix what can be fixed," Dwight muttered. "You ok?" 

"Me?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously. You'd been on your way to the door when he half-reached for you. 

"Yeah. You down here, that's not a good thing for anyone." 

Ok, that was fair, and made way more sense than one middle of the night conversation suddenly made him think you were friends. You shrugged. "I'm fine. Nauseous." 

"That's good," Dwight said softly. "Not the nauseous part. Stay a minute, would you? I'm going out to look for Sherry. Want to ask you about some things." 

You sighed and leaned in the doorway. "I don't know why. She and I weren't friends." 

"You were the only one she trusted," Dwight disagreed. 

Dr. Carson made a considering noise in the back of his throat, dabbing at Dwight's head. "Because they're so similar. Both tender hearted. The kind of tender hearted that would marry a man to save her husband's- or her brother's- life? They're not the kind of people who are supposed to be around anymore." 

"Thanks so fucking much," you muttered. Dwight held your eyes for a moment and you saw the temper boiling under the surface of his, as well as cold calculation. You tipped your head, wondering what he was thinking. "You know where she went?" 

"Naw," he said with a shrug. "Got a few ideas. She mention anything, up there? Anywhere she wanted to go again?" 

"You're acting like she and I were bosom buddies. We barely tolerated each other," you said with a roll of your eyes. "She ran the bitch brigade and kept Negan off their backs as best she could, I ignored everyone. I have no idea where she might have gone. Outside of where Darrie and I met you assholes, I know nothing about you. Aside from you're backstabbing jerks. It's a good thing she's gone." 

Dr. Carson nodded approvingly. "I agree. Your best bet is to forget about her. Not that anyone else is likely to, with what she did." 

"Well, we've all done things," Dwight said pointedly. 

You caught his look and scoffed. "Some of us more than others, I'm sure." 

"You know, you're awful high and mighty for one of Negan's-" 

You cut him off with a flat stare. "I was talking about me, jackass. You have no idea the kinds of things I've done."

"Any one of us," Dr. Carson added. "But before we came here. Before we understood, we hid from it. Not us. Not anymore." He set a butterfly bandage on Dwight's forehead. "You were just beaten and thrown in a cell, and you're already back to work. You might end up running an outpost for him. Ace married him; got pregnant. You two get it. I'd like to think I do too." 

Cold fury rushed through you, something like the Dixon temper but different. It was calm, you thought as you glared at the back of the doctor's head. Calm and calculated. You wanted him dead. And Sherry- 

Sherry had helped your brother escape. She was still a bitch, and you hated her, but you owed her for that. 

You waited until Dwight pulled the shirt over his head and the doctor was facing away before you spoke, slow and measured. "I wonder what you've done, Doc? Well. I guess what's important is knowing who we are, and what we've done. Owning up to things. Not letting others take the fall for our choices." 

Dwight's expression never changed as he slid from the exam table, but Carson turned, smile on his lips. 

"Yes, exactly. Sherry made her choice. You made yours. Dwight made his." 

Dwight grunted and grabbed a handful of lollipops, spilling them everywhere as he headed for the door. His eyes were on you as you smiled sweetly at the doctor. 

"And you made yours," you agreed. Like letting Merle die. Like thinking you were one of Negan's bitches. Like thinking he was untouchable.

His forehead creased in concern, but you'd turned to follow Dwight out of the office. You didn't speak or even look at each other, but you had a feeling Dwight knew what you'd been getting at. And if he didn't? Well, you'd take care of it yourself then. Carson was going down. 

You wanted to paint for awhile, on the roof. High above your problems, away from everyone, where the air was clear of the stench of the dead, at least, and you could lose yourself in a fantasy that you weren't who and what you were. As usual, reality had other plans. 

The lounge was tense as hell and it wasn't very hard to see why. You stalked straight to the bar with a groan and dropped the bottle of prenatal vitamins down, grabbing the decanter and a lowball glass instead. Why were doing this? You didn't give two shits about any of these women. It was their problem. You should just head to your room and leave well enough alone.

Negan turned, eyeing you as you stared him down while pouring. He bit his lower lip and chuckled slightly, struggling to contain his smile. "Now I know you're not about to drink that, princess." 

"No," you agreed mildly, scooping up the glass. You shoved it into his hands and crossed your arms. "You are. Leave Amber alone." 

"What do you mean? I'm just talking to one of my wives." 

You scoffed, not looking at Amber's tear-stained face. "Please. She's sad, she's scared, and you can cut the tension in this room with a dull butter knife and serve it on nachos. You're being an asshole again. Stop it." 

"Mmm. I love it when you get bossy." Negan winked and leered, but he sipped from the glass and turned toward you the rest of the way. He'd been angled toward Amber, and you saw the relieved slump of her shoulders when he faced you. 

You'd been right. He was being an asshole. 

"Yeah, I know. Drink your whisky. Why are you up here?" 

He chuckled over the glass and leaned in close. "Careful, sweetheart. You might be the favorite right now, but you're not untouchable." 

You didn't respond to that, and he kissed your cheek, tossed back the contents of the glass, and handed it to Amber. Amber looked at you with wide eyes as Negan curled his arm around your waist and turned you toward the door, and you tried to send off reassuring vibes. She really was so fucking young, and that mess with Mark had really fucked her up. 

You didn't blame her, but you wished she'd grow some thicker fucking skin. This wasn't a game for the soft, no matter what Carson thought about you. 

"Come on. We're going downstairs. Got a little present for you," Negan said. He kept his hand on your back as he steered you toward the door. "I think a familiar face would be good for my new magic bullet maker." 

You did your best not to listen or to see the fence while Negan talked shop about tracking your brother down. You definitely didn't look out to the left, three rows up and five dead down. You didn't want to know. 

"We'll send Simon out there first, sort of good-cop this thing a bit. There he is! Man of the hour. Come on over here, big fella." 

You tuned into the change in Negan's tone, your fingers clenching reflexively on his arm as you caught sight of Eugene. His eyes shot to you and away again, darting all around the courtyard in clear terror. 

He'd been unharmed. He was holding a jar of pickles. Dressed in clean clothes. And he still looked about to cry or shit his pants. 

You did your level best not to sneer. 

Laura looked as disgusted with her charge as you were, and she jerked her chin your way in acknowledgement. You nodded back slightly as Negan patted your hand and stepped away from you, to study Eugene up close. 

"Don't be rude, asshole. Say hello." 

You sighed as Eugene stuttered out a 'hello' and Negan asked if he had a name. Lucille in hand, Negan turned and gestured to the Saviors gathered around, including that bastard David who you were pretty sure was a fucking rapist behind Negan's back. 

"Fellas? Who are you?" Negan asked, grinning at you as the reply of 'I'm Negan' came in unison. He spun back around, lifting Lucille in that stupid phallic way he enjoyed far too much. 

You wondered why he did that shit. Was it just for show? Was he that insecure? Or that fucking cocky? You'd seen it, after all. He didn't exactly have anything to compensate for, and your stomach churned at the fact that you knew that. Maybe the nausea wasn't all the kid's fault. 

You decided he was just an asshole who'd learned how to put on a damn good performance. 

"Well, Eugene. I know you remember Lucille. Now, you see this right here? You might have to get real close," he continued, tone going low and dangerous as he pointed to the bullet embedded in the bat. 

Rosita had gotten in a lucky fucking shot. You wished she'd been just a little luckier. 

"That, my friend, is the bullet you made. Now under normal circumstances, I'd be showing you that real close over and over again. But, Eugene, see, all I really wanna know is if you are a smarty-pants. You know things?" 

Eugene was damn near in tears and you wished like hell you were anywhere but here. You'd take Will's apartment or the hospital after Mal or shit, even that room in Woodbury on what you'd thought was the worst day of your life- how did you keep finding new levels of worst?- or the tracks outside Terminus. Anywhere but here. 

"Answer the question." 

Eugene's mouth opened twice before sound came out. "I- I am, indeed a smarty-pants. I taught myself how to cast bullets. I found a- I- I found a machine shop with the necessary …" He kept going, half-finished sentences as Negan let his silence stretch. "If knowledge is dropped, I do indeed pick it up." 

"Oh, you really are just some asshole," Negan finally declared with a laugh. "You hear that, princess? He's just some asshole who reads." 

You contemplated declaring that he didn't have room to talk, since he was just some asshole with a bat, but you weren't entirely sure he wouldn't punish you for that one. You shrugged instead. Eugene looked at you, looked at him, and started talking again, and you lifted one eyebrow in disbelief. 

"No, I'm not. I have PhD's in biochemistry, microbiology, and immunology, and I have completed my doctorate, which makes me doctor. Prior to the collapse, I was part of a 10-person team at the Human Genome Project, working under Dr. T. Brooks Ellis to weaponize diseases to fight weaponized diseases." 

Negan paced around him as he listened, but you were fighting a war with yourself. You couldn't fucking believe Eugene was doing this shit. He was spilling the same story he'd told you to convince everyone to get him to Washington. He'd lied his ass off then and he was lying his ass off now, and you were pissed. 

Because there was nothing you could do about it, and you weren't even sure you wanted to. Negan having Eugene, who could make fucking bullets, was a shitty thing. But if you exposed him, he'd be killed. You didn't need that on your conscience, for one, and for two, you wanted him back home. Making bullets for Rick and Shane and Darrie. That sort of required him being alive, damn it. 

One of the walkers on the fence chose that moment to fall apart, and Eugene's face contorted. Your stomach rolled and you retched a little. 

Negan sighed. "Sorry, princess. Alright, Dr. Smarty-pants. You outta be able to crack this without breaking a sweat. You see, I have a lot of free labor here at the fence. Living dead pricks that help keep the riff-raff out. Problem is, they don't keep. They fall apart. Like that poor sack of… pile of shit there. So, Dr. Smarty-pants, how do we keep them on their feet?" 

Eugene's face contorted and Negan turned away in disappointment, but then suddenly Eugene was talking. You didn't follow it all and didn't really care to, but the summary was: molten-metal them to the fence. 

Negan loved it. You turned around, bent over, and lost the all-day battle with not puking at the thought of them doing that to Merle. 

Negan turned, his arm around Eugene's shoulders. "You ok, darlin'?" 

"Do I look ok?" you muttered to the ground, swiping a hand over your mouth. You straightened and shot him a glare. "I'm fine." 

He smiled like he knew better, but spoke to Eugene with his eyes on you. "Man, I can't believe Rick didn't have you doin' this kind of valuable stuff. Oh well. His loss, our gain. Kind of like with my princess there. She joined us for a reason. See, I know you know her. She's unforgettable, isn't she? She was hooked up with Rick's second in command, right? And now- now, she's having my baby." 

Eugene's eyes shot wide and you looked away from him, arms wrapped around yourself. You hated this fucking bastard so much. 

"Now, this place? Can be the goddamn dream for you. And as a token of my appreciation, I'm gonna send over a few of my wives- not Ace, sorry- to show you a good time tonight. Now I don't think I have to say this, but who knows how smart you truly are- no sex. That is a grave no-no. However, you can have a little dinner, some drinks, share a few laughs. There is nothing like beautiful women that smell good to make you feel human again!" Negan declared. 

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Eugene stammered. "Did- did you say wives? Plural?" 

Negan grinned and winked at you. "Hell yes I did. Now what do you say to your new bestest friend in the whole wide world?" 

"Thank you," Eugene said after a moment of staring at you in confusion. "Truly, sincerely, honestly, completely- thank you."

You closed your eyes as Negan laughed, feeling the sun on your face and trying not to fucking think. It was that easy. Darrie in a cell being tortured for weeks, and Eugene was that easy. 

Oh, god, you missed your brothers.


	25. Lie #25: "Sure. I'm Peachy." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

"Look, man, I know you don't like it, but you need to stay put," Shane said when he caught up to Dixon. 

Daryl gave him a look that could have cut glass. "Like hell. I ain't stayin' here." 

Shane rubbed at the back of his head and sighed. The others were catching up, and Jesus gestured for the gate to open. 

"You need to stay here, Daryl," Rick said urgently as he joined them. Shane tried not to laugh at the look of deep disgust Daryl shot between them. 

"Just fuckin' told ya wife I ain't doin' that," Daryl snarled. "I need to be out there. Getting ready. Tryin' to get my sister." 

"You think your sister isn't my top priority?" 

Daryl jerked one shoulder in a shrug. "That mean I ain't supposed to help?" 

"No. But they're right. He's gonna be looking for you," Shane said with a shrug. "And he'll check Alexandria and the Hilltop first. He doesn't come in here, and as far as he knows, we don't know this place exists." 

"Shane's right. Stay here, Daryl. Try to talk to Ezekiel," Rick said. He smiled slightly, humor dancing in his eyes at the mutinous look in Daryl's. "Or just stare him into submission. Whatever it takes." 

"Shit, brother, that's accurate enough," Shane said with a laugh. He grabbed Daryl into a hug before he could object. "See you soon, man." 

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl muttered. "Get the hell off me."

The radio crackled when they were maybe halfway home, Negan's voice making Shane's hand clench into a fist against his leg as he stared out the window. He glanced at Rick in the driver's seat and then over his shoulder to Jesus, sandwiched in the back with everyone else. Jesus held up the radio and listened, serene expression still in place. 

"For anyone out there who loved the obese bastard as much as I did, I just want to say a few words. Fat Joey was not the most badass sonnuva bitch, but he was loyal. He had a great sense of humor. Things will not be the same now that he's dead. Without Fat Joey, Skinny Joey? Is just… Joey. So it's a goddamn tragedy. So, let's have a moment of silence." 

Shane stopped listening about two sentences in, because the on ramp to the highway was completely blocked by three rows of parked cars and what fresh hell was this? Rick eased to a stop and Shane sighed. That shit was done on purpose, no doubt about it.

"Someone's trying to block the way," Jesus observed. "Must be the Saviors." 

"Look," Carl said, voice odd. Shane turned and the kid was staring out the side window. "I think that's their base over there." 

Shane's head whipped around fast, and he opened the passenger door to get half out and stare at the factory rising over the trees in the distance. She was there. Slugger was that close to him, and yet- 

"Yeah, that's it," Jesus said softly. "Must be trying to make it hard to get to them." 

"Get back in the damn car, Shane. You're not walking over there," Rick said mildly. "We gotta keep going. We'll move them, then we'll move them back." 

Shane ducked down to stare at Rick. "The fuck we put 'em back for?" 

"They don't need to know we were here." Rick shot Shane a grim look as he turned the SUV off. "You good?" 

Shane dropped to the ground and looked back at the factory. "Sure," he said with a shrug. "I'm peachy." 

Shane climbed out of the car and frowned over at Rick and Michonne. Rick had binoculars and that stance that said something was going on, and Michonne had almost the same damn expression. Shane half-smiled at what a good match they were becoming even as he wondered what the fuck else was going on now. 

"Almost clear," he told them as he joined them. "You two look like we're about to have more trouble." 

"Something over there," Rick said slowly.

Michonne looked over at Shane. "I think it's explosives." 

Shane blinked once, and he and Rick started walking at the same time. 

"That's a lot of ordinance, brother," Shane said grimly. 

Rick nodded, nose to nose with what was clearly a detonator. Explosives were strung along all four lanes, more than enough to stop army truck- or ten. "Yeah. It is." 

"What's all this for?" Michonne asked. 

"Wait… When I was hiding in the back of the truck, I heard a couple of them talking about this," Carl said slowly. "This is for a herd." 

"Of course it is," Shane muttered. "Kid, we still need to have a real chat about that." 

"Come on, Uncle Shane-" 

"No, Uncle Shane's right," Rick said, sounding somehow both strained and incredibly unbothered. "But not right now." 

"That's why it’s a steel cable," Rosita said. "It's not just for one walker. It's for a lot."

Shane figured if no one else would say it, he would. "We need these." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "We have to figure out how to disarm it first." 

Shane rubbed a hand over his head. "Should have done a stint with the bomb squad, as well as taken a class in outbreak management." 

Rosita ignored them all to lift the grate on the ground slowly and smoothly. Her face was calm and composed, and Shane wondered how much of that matched how she really felt. Tara took a long step back and Rosita made a comment, but Shane edged closer. He peered over her shoulder at yet more explosive and a handful of twisting wires, and of course, Negan's voice crackled over the radio again. 

"We've got ourselves a red situation. I need a search party. See if Daryl ran home like the dumb animal he is."

"On it. Be there in time for lunch," Simon answered. 

Shane and Rick looked at each other, and Shane rubbed at the back of his head and tried to come up with a plan. 

"Turn that sleepy little burg upside down!" 

"He's up to something," Shane muttered. "He sounds fucking smug." 

Rick nodded. "He's not pissed enough." 

"We gotta get back before they get there, but we need this shit, man," Shane muttered. "Rosita?" 

She rose, something black and vaguely distressing in her hand. "First part's done. We gotta unwrap the secondary explosives-- the dynamite, the RPG's. Make sure these casings are not messed up, and do not mess them up either. This thing could still blow." 

"Perfect," Shane muttered, and got to fucking work. 

They were doing better than Shane had anticipated, frankly. Rosita rejected one bundle of explosives, with no real reason other than "I don't like the way that looks." Shane wasn't about the question the woman who clearly knew what to do here. 

But he was going to ask her for her life story later. 

Then, as usual, things went from stressed to chaos. "Dad, Uncle Shane- look," Carl called. 

Shane paused in the act of carefully snapping a zip tie with his knife, because that voice from Carl did not mean good things. He looked up the empty highway, four lanes one way of wide-open space, and sighed. 

"They're here," he told Rick. He cut the zip tie, pulled the connecting wires, and rose from his painful crouch to squint at the oncoming herd. "But they're far away." 

"We've got time," Rick agreed. 

Sasha was unconvinced. Shane didn't really blame her. Rick met his eyes and tossed sweat from his face with a jerk of his head as he told her they'd have to have time, cause they needed these. Rick was right. 

Then it hit him. "Fuck, man. We need to get the cars back on the ramp on the other side." 

"We're taking their dynamite; won't they know we were here anyway?" Jesus asked. 

Shane nodded. "Yeah. But we need the herd on the highway." 

"Why?" 

Rick took the explosives from Shane and started for Rosita. "Because we might need 'em later."

Rosita took Carl and Tara and the SUV, leaving. Shane kept one eye on the herd coming around the bend, and holy shit it was big. And fast, damn it. 

"Rick?" he said slowly. He gave his partner a look, and Rick nodded. 

"Alright. Sasha, Jesus. Can you get back to the Hilltop on foot?" Rick asked. 

"Yeah," Sasha agreed. 

"Tell Maggie we're not giving up. Go!" Rick ordered. 

Shane nodded. "I'll go with them." 

"Are you dumb?" Sasha demanded. "No. He's going to want you in particular. You have to get back. We'll be fine." 

"I'll get her there," Jesus said seriously. 

Shane hesitated. "I could help." 

"You could. But your absence would cause more problems in the long run," Jesus said. "We need to go." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and jerked his chin. "Go on. Hug Maggie for me." 

They nodded and took off in a swirl of black ninja coat, and Shane hoped that was the right decision. He glanced from Rick to the others moving cars, and back to the last few sticks and RPGs attached to the wire. They were gonna push it, weren't they?

"Michonne, grab Sasha's and take them on over," Rick said. "Shane-" 

Shane snorted and Rick shut up. Michonne snatched up the two Sasha had left for them, grabbed the one Rick had just freed, and kissed him hard. 

"Hurry up," she ordered. She vaulted the median railing to sprint for the others while Shane turned back to his current explosive problem. 

Unfortunately that wasn't the only one. "Hey, brother," he called, tone casually conversational as he freed the last of the explosives on his end. "They're gonna get cut off over there." 

"One more," Rick said. 

"Yeah, sure. Can we split up?" 

Rick hesitated and Shane looked at the herd coming up fucking fast. "No," Rick said slowly. 

"Cars?" Shane offered. "Hit the horns." 

"Yeah. I lay my arm down, and we go," Rick agreed. "Get ready." 

Shane tossed explosives on the passenger seat and ducked under the dash, trying to ignore the growing sound of growling and snarling that meant the dead- and a lot of them- were too fucking close. He stripped wires and thanked his lucky stars he'd paid attention during the end of the world, cause it would have taken him twice as long to get the engine running if it hadn't been for lectures from his Dixon clan. 

"Oh, this is a shitty idea," he muttered, sitting up in the driver's seat to find Carl and the others surrounded and him and Rick almost there. "And he says I'm reckless. Aight, brother, whenever you're ready." 

Rick's arm was out the window, his eyes wild, and he bared his teeth as he brought it down. Shane laid on the horn and the gas, and the highway turned into a body-parts battlefield as the heavy steel cable between his car and Rick's went through them like wire through cheese. 

Shane contemplated being sick at that comparison, but he didn't think he had the time. Once level with the ramp and therefore the others, he and Rick hit the breaks and Shane braced himself to make a fucking run for it. 

He snatched the explosives from the passenger seat, pulled his machete, and took off, keeping Rick in his sights. The back of his mind said Shane should be more worried for his own safety as he dodged hands and shoved walkers away from him, but he could see Rick and he knew how Rick was, and sure enough Rick wasn't paying enough attention to his own situation. Shane's heart damn near stopped when Rick disappeared from view, but then he was back and Carl threw open the door of the SUV, braining a walker Shane hadn't noticed creeping up behind him. 

Shane grabbed Rick by the collar and drug him into the vehicle. Tara hit the gas before the door was even closed, and Shane tossed the arm that got caught as it slammed shut out the window before collapsing back against the seat to fucking breathe. 

He was alive again. How the hell did he keep pulling that off? He shot a glare over at Rick, panting beside him, but the explosion from behind had them both turning. 

"Yeah," Rosita muttered from the passenger seat. "I didn't like the look of that shit at all." 

Shane snorted and glared at Rick again. Rick rolled his eyes and waved one hand, still trying to get his breathing under control. 

"I pushed it. I pushed it." 

"In case you were wondering," Shane informed him caustically. "That shit right there was fuckin' reckless. And it wasn't my idea." 

"Shut up, 22." 

Shane flipped him off and slung an arm around Carl's shoulders while Michonne whispered in Rick's ear. "You're dad's a dumbass," he told the kid. 

"Dad's not the only one," Carl mumbled, staring out the back window toward the factory in the distance. 

Shane twisted to follow his gaze and sighed. "Yeah. He's not."


	26. Lie #26: "I Needed Someone Objective To Tell Me What I Already Knew." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> vomiting (I know; I'm sorry)

"Lemme go, m'fine!" 

The voice was a whiny slur you knew instantly meant drunk off her ass, and you closed your eyes and tilted your head back against the chair with a sigh. You set aside the book you hadn't really been reading anyway, and checked to make sure the bathroom was free. Someone would be puking. 

You got a washcloth out and ran it under cold water, then went for the mini fridge behind the bar for ice and a bottle of old Gatorade. You glanced up as the muffled responses got closer, and Tanya and Frankie staggered through the doorway in high heels and little black dresses, supporting a drunk off her ass and crying Amber between them. 

You sighed again and went to help. "Hey. What happened here?" 

"Wine," Frankie said, rolling her eyes. You bumped the tiny Tanya out of the way and firmly turned Amber toward the bathroom. Frankie met your eyes over her head as Amber tried to pull away and protested almost illegibly that she didn't need to go in there. "We were down with Eugene." 

"This his fault?" you asked. "No, I know you wanna law down, sweetheart, but trust me. You're gonna puke." 

"M'gonna puke," Amber declared in sudden horror, her face contorting. "Ace, m'gonna-" 

"Yeah, yeah." You eased her down in front of the toilet and she lunged for it. You gathered her hair back away from her shoulders and set the washcloth on the back of her neck, blocking out the retching sounds with the ease of practice as you turned back to Tanya and Frankie in the doorway. "What the hell, ladies? She's- is she even twenty one?" 

"Does that really matter?" Frankie said archly. 

You had to admit that was a fair point, and you made some reassuring noises when Amber whimpered. "Fine. Fair enough. Eugene do this? Was he trying to get her drunk?" 

"No," Tanya said with a shrug. "He was just… trying to make sure we had fun. We played video games, had popcorn. He told us he couldn't talk about the Human Genome Project and what he did there, and said we wouldn't understand it anyway 'cause he's so smart." 

She and Frankie giggled as your teeth ground together. That fucking liar, you thought. Found a way around getting caught. As usual. 

"He is smart," you ground out. "So are both of you, so why is Amber shit faced right now?" 

Frankie sighed. "She wouldn't stop drinking. We tried. She even took the bottle when Eugene made the balloon explode." 

That got a raised eyebrow. "Eugene what now?" 

"I asked if he was one of those guy who could make a bomb out of bleach and a toothpick, and he rattled off a bunch of things he would need… so we asked him to do it for us. Just a small explosion. And he got excited about it, so he did. He made a glove he'd blown up with helium-" 

"Hydrogen," Frankie interrupted Tanya, and both of them laughed again. 

"Right, hydrogen. He corrected me about that. Anyway, he made it explode. We were just trying to have fun. Make him see he was one of us," Frankie said with a shrug. "It wasn't a bad evening. Amber's just- well, Amber." 

Amber started sobbing into the toilet bowl and you pinched the bridge of your nose. She was really fucked up these days. It was going to be a problem, and for some reason you didn't understand and absolutely hated, you wanted to help. 

Unfortunately, this was the Sanctuary, so it wasn't like you could do much except get her to bed with a bucket and a Gatorade. "Come on," you muttered. "Puking's done. Help me get her up." 

You were on the roof, sitting perched on the edge and sketching the horizon. It was as close as you could get to leaving, after all. 

The gates opened and you glanced down, wondering who that could be. Dwight rode in on one of the motorcycles, Darrie's vest on his back, and you snarled. You really hated him. 

You wanted to know if he'd found her. For some reason, the girls kept bringing you their drama and questions and requests. You wanted Sherry back, damn it. So you could go back to just hiding and ignoring everything. 

A few minutes later you restlessly closed your sketchbook and shoved it into your bag, heading for the back stairs. You'd find Dwight down there, no doubt. 

You were right. He leaned in Sherry's usual spot, cigarette between his lips. You settled against the wall opposite him, staring at the smoke and craving one desperately. You almost asked, but you couldn't bring yourself to. Smoking was bad for the baby. 

You hated this kid a little. But you'd take care of it anyway. It wasn't it's fault you weren't supposed to be in this mess. 

Maybe you should call it something other than 'it'. 

"Find her?" you asked softly. 

Dwight blew smoke and shrugged. "She's dead." 

"Sherry?" You scoffed and his eyes shot to you. "No, she's not. But if that's your story, I'll back you." 

"Why?" he asked. "We aren't friends." 

You shrugged and closed your eyes, tipping your head back against the wall. "Maybe I owe her." 

"Don't owe nobody. Not here. That's dangerous." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Still." 

Silenced stretched, and you figured you should leave. Secondhand smoke wasn't any better for the kid, after all. And you shouldn't give anyone a reason to be suspicious of you. Not that you were doing anything wrong. 

"Did you want kids? Before all this." 

You blinked at Dwight, surprised. "I was told I couldn't have them." 

He nodded, took another drag, and stubbed his cigarette out. "I'm sorry. Glad it wasn't true." 

"I don't know if I am," you whispered, staring down at your hands. "I only ever wanted them with one person." 

You shoved off the wall and started back up the stairs, pausing to look over your shoulder. "What about you?" 

Dwight blew smoke and met your eyes. "Only ever wanted them with one person." 

Shane rolled his eyes at his phone and made a face. "Figures." 

"What?" 

He tossed the phone down and scowled at the half-empty beer in front of him. "She ain't takin' it well." 

"Are you really surprised?" you said dryly, frowning at the glass in front of you. It didn't feel complete. Something was missing, but you didn't know what. "I mean, you told me she was fucking crazy the night you hooked up with her. She conned you into the first actual date and guilted you into a second one." 

"And third," he admitted, shoving a hand through his hair with a grimace. "She's parked outside my house right now." 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Shane!" You stared at him, appalled. "You told her your address? That was dumb." 

"Did not, " he muttered. "She snooped. And I texted the sheriff. He's sending some of the boys out there, but thanks for asking."

You scoffed and added pineapple juice to your concoction. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Dickhead." 

"You know what?" he snapping, pointing at you while spinning his phone around in the other hand. "We all make shitty choices sometimes. How many times that asshole broken up with you this year?" 

"Fuck you," you told him pleasantly. "Here, try this." 

Shane eyed the lowball glass dubiously. "How many kinds of alcohol are in that?" 

You smiled at him innocently and shrugged. 

"Yeah, me drinkin' that would be one of those shitty choices. Find another guinea pig." 

"We both know you're crashing at my place tonight anyway. There's a stalker outside your house. Come on, tell me what's off about it. Something is and I can't figure it out," you whined, leaning on your elbows on the counter. 

He picked it up and sniffed it. "Yeah, definitely a shitty choice. Your coffee sucks. Why don't you try it?" He took a cautious sip, made a surprised face, and sipped again. 

"Because I can't get wasted at work," you said with a shrug. "Come on, what's wrong with it?" 

"Honestly? Nothing. That's damn good, Slugger," he said, taking another, longer drink. 

You reached out and forced him to put it down when he went in again. "Whoa, slow down. Thanks, but I was serious about getting wasted. Also, I meant what's wrong with my coffee? I know the drink's good." 

"Then why the fuck did you say it wasn't right?" he demanded, sipping again. 

You sighed and pulled up his tab on the computer. "I'm ordering you a burger. I needed someone objective to tell me what I already knew. Besides, I had to convince you to crash at my place somehow. You've got a crazy person outside your house; I can't let you go home. But I knew you'd be stubborn about it if I didn't get you too drunk to drive." 

"You know I'm a cop, right? I handle crazy people all the time." 

"Yeah, but still. Maybe I just wanted the company tonight," you teased. 

Shane rolled his eyes. "Could have just said so." 

"This was more fun. Here. I'm gonna toss some OJ in it and add some fresh fruit. Tell me if that's better." 

"Damn it, Slugger." 

You were half-dressed when the knock sounded at your door. "What?" you called, swallowing hard against your stomach rolling and cursing goddamn morning sickness that showed up at all fucking hours. 

"It's us. We need to talk to you." 

You zipped up your jeans and scowled at the little black dress hanging on a hook, a uniform the others had adopted and you flat refused to wear until coerced. You flung open the door and glared harder at Tanya and Frankie, in their dresses and heels again and looking serene and patient and not at all tired, crabby, and nauseated. 

"What?" you snapped. 

Frankie's lips twitched like she wanted to smile, but she thought better of it and gestured instead. "We need to come in." 

Oh for shit's sake. You stepped out of the way with a sigh and closed the door when they were both in your room, then perched on the edge of the bed to lace up your sneakers. "Ok, you're in. What?" 

They glanced at each other. Frankie had clearly been elected spokeswoman, and she tucked perfectly styled red hair behind her ear and licked her lips. Your eyes narrowed. These two were up to something, weren't they? 

"We have an idea that we want to run by you," Frankie finally said. 

You scoffed. "For shit's sake, why?" 

"Because you want him dead even more than we do." 

You'd turned back to your shoes, but your eyes shot to Frankie. You looked from her, calm and poised, to the clearly more nervous but still collected Tanya. "What?"

"Don't try to act like you don't. We all know. Most of us are here because we volunteered to be. I'm a masseuse. Well, I was. Tanya's a chef. We wouldn't have managed to work for points, so we made a choice. You, Sherry, Amber- the three of you had to become wives. Sherry made the best of it, but you and Amber…" Frankie trailed off. 

Tanya shrugged. "Amber drinks and cries and that's it. You're coping, but you hate him." 

"So?" you muttered. "I mean, yeah. I do. That's not a secret. I'm not here- in the Sanctuary, much less in this fucking harem- by choice. What's your point?" 

"We want to kill him."

"Get in line." You tightened the laces on your shoes harder than you needed to and stood, heading for the door. Frankie stepped in front of it, blocking your way, and you eyed her in amusement. "Bad idea, honey." 

"Eugene can make pills," she said intensely. "I know he can. He made a bomb." 

"Oh, I'm sure Eugene could. Eugene won't. He's a fucking coward, for one, and he's going to go with whoever keeps him safe." You rolled your eyes and shoved a hand through your hair. "I mean, what. You gonna walk in there and say 'hey, Eugene, we had fun last night, help us kill Negan'? He'll turn you in and you two will be on the fence faster than you can say 'well fuck, Ace was right.'"

Frankie lifted an eyebrow. "We're not stupid. We have a plan. We wanted to know if you thought it had any chance at working. You clearly know Eugene." 

"Yeah, I know him. I know he's a coward and a liar, and your plan is probably doomed. Lay it on me," you muttered with a disgusted gesture. The faster they spit it out, the faster they'd leave and you could go sit on the roof and pretend none of this was happening. 

Tanya stepped up to Frankie's elbow, giving intense eye contact and speaking in a low voice. "We tell him it's for Amber. She was a mess last night. I mean, you saw her. She was drunk off her ass; spent the whole night crying and talking about just being slaves. We convince him she wants to die, and she needs help. We need help. He never knows it's for Negan." 

You stared between them for a long moment. "That's fucking dumb, and a good way to get yourselves killed. If you get caught, leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with this." 

"You're being as much of a coward as he is," Frankie said softly. "You're pregnant. With Negan's baby. For the next nine months, at least- you're utterly untouchable. Do you know what you could do with that power? But you won't. Come on, Tanya. Let's go. We have to try." 

You flopped backward onto your bed as they stormed out, staring at the ceiling and thinking.


	27. Lie #27: "You're Insane Is What You Are." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

They came. They made a huge fucking mess. Shane held his temper in check only by knowing there weren't going to be any surprises on this little visit, since they knew exactly where Daryl was. 

He was wrong. 

Simon whistled as they rounded the corner in a group, all of them forced to walk with Simon while his goons ransacked Alexandria for the second time. "These are some bare shelving units! What, did you guys have a barbecue or something and not invite us? Seriously, this is sad." 

The pantry had been stripped. Shane turned to look at Aaron, Eric, and Tobin, who'd been more or less in charge of the place while they went recruiting, and they looked just as grimly confused as Shane felt, if slightly less surprised. What the hell had happened here? 

"Hope you're not trying to hide stuff from us, cause that generally doesn't go over very well," Simon said, turning that fake smile and empty eyes to Shane in particular. 

This bastard knew something, Shane thought. He knew something that he wasn't sharing. Shane contemplated pounding whatever it was out of him, but he had a feeling that also would not go over very well.

"We have a lot of people," Aaron said calmly. "It's getting harder to find stuff, and our focus lately has been on finding things that Negan might want. We're still adjusting to the new system." 

Shane had to give that man props. Simon stared him down, and there Aaron was, face bruised up like Shane's, and he didn't flinch. He offered a polite but unapologetic explanation that was pure bullshit but sounded rational. Shane wasn't sure he'd have been able to do anything but snarl. 

"We were gonna scavenge more today. If you just wait, we'll bring something back. We'll find more," Rick offered. 

Simon jumped all over that, and Shane's hand hurt from being clenched into a fist so tightly and for so long. He was glad Rick was dealing fine today, because for some reason, Shane was not. He hated this empty-eyed bastard with his false cheer and friendliness almost as much as he hated Negan, and Shane was indulging in some fantasies the likes of which he hadn't had since picturing Malcolm fucking Hall's slow death before the apocalypse even began. 

This was the bastard that boxed them in. This was the one who almost cost Maggie her baby. Shane was waiting for the day he could take him apart with his bare hands. 

As soon as the gate closed, Shane whirled on Aaron. "What happened to the pantry?" 

He glanced over at Rick and raised an eyebrow as Carl turned a laugh into a poor imitation of a cough. Seemed he and Rick were on the same page, since the words came out in unison and in almost the same tone. 

"We don't know," Aaron said grimly. "And we need to talk about Gabriel." 

"What fucking now?" Shane groaned. "Where is he?" 

"He was on watch. The night you all went to scavenge. I was supposed to take over for him in the morning," Tobin said, sounding exhausted as he joined them after securing the gate. "He wasn't at his post." 

"Pantry was cleared out, and a car was gone," Aaron added. 

Eric ran a hand down Aaron's arm. "No one's seen him since." 

Rosita scoffed, crossing her arms with a sneer of utter disgust. "That son of a bitch. Stole our shit and ran."

"That's… what it looks like," Tobin said slowly. 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair when Michonne and Rick protested. Rick said Gabriel wouldn't do that to them, and Shane wanted to agree. He did. But… 

"It can't be anything else," Rosita snarled. 

"Yes. It can. Shane." 

Shane looked at Rick and shrugged. "Let's go dust off our crime scene skills, huh?" 

Shane studied the empty shelves and wondered just what it was Rick thought they were gonna find. There was nothing here. Nothing. 

"Look, brother, I don't wanna believe he'd just abandon ship either, but…" Shane trailed off when Rick bent and picked up a book from the floor of what had been the armory. He crouched beside Rick and frowned as he leafed through the tattered pages of a Bible. "Seriously, man, there's nothing here. All we've got is empty shelves and no preacher." 

"And this," Rick said slowly. "Why wouldn't he have taken this with him? Why would he leave it on the floor?" 

Shane rose when Rick did and shrugged. "He didn’t want the reminder?" 

"There weren't tracks out there before," Aaron said, appearing in the doorway with Rosita and Eric. "We didn't find anything now. Maybe Daryl could have picked something up." 

Shane sighed and picked up the inventory notebook, mostly for something to do with his hands other than clench them into fists. His knuckles were starting to hurt, he'd been doing that so often lately. He flipped through the pages, thinking about what he knew of the preacher, both when they'd first found him and now. Would he have run? Once upon a time, Shane would have said hell yes. Now, Shane found himself wondering. Gabriel had proven himself a tough bastard. He'd taken Judy through the herd when the town got overrun, and kept her safe. He'd been left in charge of Alexandria when they met Negan. He'd thought fast and clever, digging fake graves to keep Negan from wondering what they'd done with Glenn and Abraham, and where Maggie might have been. 

No, Shane didn't think he would just run. Not anymore. Which meant there was something going on after all. 

"He left. He didn't leave a note. He obviously doesn't want to be found," Rosita snapped. 

Shane paused as he went to toss the inventory book back on the shelf. "Yes, he does. Rick." 

Rick leaned over his shoulder and Shane tilted the notebook so he could see what was scrawled across it in large letters. It was too much of a damn coincidence, and Rick seemed to agree, planting his hands on his hips and tilting his head at the page. "You think?" 

"It's the only one I know of. It's a clue, Officer Grimes," Shane said with a shrug.

Shane crossed his arms and glared. "Are you shitting me with this, man?" 

"No," Rick said, tone one of forced patience and calm Shane had heard too damn often in his life. 

It just pissed him off more, and he ran both hands over his head and started pacing. "We seriously goin' out there? Six of us? After him?" 

"Why not?" Rick asked. He hooked one hand over his empty holster, gesturing with the other as he fixed Shane with that stubborn bastard expression. "He's in trouble. We need our supplies back." 

"And that's the only damn reason we should be considerin' this at all. I mean, come on, man! You- you didn't let me go look for Ace for days! You knocked me over the damn head and locked me up when I tried, but this motherfucker who's been- who's always been a little shady if you ask me- He goes missing and leaves a cryptic clue, and you're all set to head out into the great fuckin' beyond?" 

It wasn't that Shane didn't think there was something rotten in the state of Denmark- well, Virginia- when it came to all this. And he wasn't even saying not to look for the man. After all, the preacher was one of them, and he was clearly in trouble. It was just- hell, Shane didn't know exactly what it was; he was just angry. Angry that they'd drop everything to go after Father Gabriel, but when Merle and his Slugger were missing, it'd taken an act of rebellion and an angry Dixon to get out there, and Rick still hadn't come. 

Turned out maybe Shane hadn't forgiven his brother for that yet after all.

Rick shifted and closed his eyes, fingers to his temple like Shane was giving him a headache. Shane got that. He also had a headache, and this one was because of Rick. 

"Brother, you've gotta see how that's not the same. You just- you gotta. We didn't know what was out there, what the Saviors were planning-" 

"Man, we still don't know what's out there!" Shane yelled it, flinging an arm out in frustration. "Could be nothing. Could be some new hell. I mean, we just found out about a whole new community with some crazy bastard who did a little too much theater in high school calling himself king! Who fuckin' knows what's out there!" 

He spun and paced toward the door, sucking in a deep breath and trying to calm down. He knew he was being an asshole, and he knew he needed to reel it in. He sure as shit didn't want to alienate his best friend, not when so much of his family was missing and so much was at stake. But he had to make Rick see. Maybe that would always be Shane's downfall, when it came to arguments with his brother. He needed to make Rick see. 

When he spoke again, he forced it out in much calmer tones. "We need to be figuring out how to get Ace and take out Negan. Not tracking down one man who ran off with our supplies." 

"And how do we feed everyone else? We just let the people here starve?" Rick asked, entirely too reasonably. "Shane, I know you better than that, brother. This isn't about Gabriel or going after him. I know you think I made the wrong call when Ace was missing, and maybe you're right. Maybe everything would be different if I'd let you go after her right away. Maybe you'd be dead, and I'd be in an even worse spot, trying to get her out without you to help me. I'm not saying I made the right call. I'm saying I made the only one I knew to make at the time, and I'm hoping you'll forgive me for it eventually." 

"Damn it," Shane muttered. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and turned back to Rick. "I need her back, man. And the whole damn world is trying to keep me from getting any fucking where." 

"I know," Rick said. "I know. We're going to. One problem at a time." 

"Feels like all we're doin' is damage control. Bouncing from one emergency to the next." 

Rick sighed and grabbed his shoulder. "You're not wrong. But we've gotta eat. And something happened, or Gabriel wouldn't have taken off. I've just got a hunch, 22. This is important. You with me?" 

"Yeah," Shane muttered. He scrubbed at his face again and shrugged. "I'm with you. Always, brother. And I'm not holding a grudge, alright? Just get angry sometimes. I'll be fine once I have her back. Come on." 

"Look, man, I'm just sayin', you've never been one with any kind of tracking skill." Shane squinted at the ground and tried to remember everything Daryl had told Beth, on the road after the prison. He'd calmed down considerably once he'd committed to this fool's errand, and he and Rick had been trading insults that kept Michonne struggling not to laugh or hit them both over the head. Shane wasn't sure which. 

"And you're so much better at it?" Rick said grumpily. 

He flashed a grin Rick's way. "Than you? Definitely. Than a Dixon? Naw." 

"They are good for that," Michonne agreed softy. "I don't believe I'm about to say this, but… I miss the lump." 

Shane sighed, the loss hitting him right in the gut. He kept forgetting Ace's obnoxious older brother was gone, and then- "Yeah. Missing Merle fuckin' Dixon is a surprise." 

"He was a pain in the ass, but he was good to have at your back," she said with a small smile. "He saved my ass out there a few times, looking for the Governor." 

"Both our asses," Shane said with a grimace. "Remember the-" He gestured vaguely and Michonne made a face. 

"We said we weren't going to bring that up again, Walsh," she accused. 

Shane shrugged. "He got us out of it. Besides, Rick's out of earshot and Ace ain't here, so who we gonna get in trouble with?" 

"Rick can't say much, considering some of the things he's gotten into." 

"Do me a favor? Tell him that. Loudly, and often," Shane said dryly. They ducked under a low hanging branch and Shane held a bush back for her to step around. "He needs reminding that he's the reckless one in this marriage." 

Michonne cracked a grin. "Finally admitting what the rest of us know?" 

"Yeah, yeah. More like I've given up objecting to it. Speaking of what everyone knew... how long did it take you and the lump to admit there was chemistry there? Or you and Rick for that matter?" 

She scowled and Shane winked at her, enjoying the casual teasing that had colored their time looking for the Governor. He'd had some fun times with her and Merle, he had to admit, even if it didn't seem like it then. Then all he'd wanted was to kill the Governor and get back home to Ace, and Merle and Michonne's constant bickering had driven him crazy. 

Now he wished Merle was here to make a crude comment or insult Shane's woodsman skills and call him a pig. Shane shook his head with a sigh, wondering how Daryl was handling being stuck back with that asshole king. 

Rick's whistle, one of the Dixon call signs, interrupted his thoughts. He and Michonne smiled sadly at each other, and Shane knew she was thinking about Merle teaching her all the various trills and whistles he and Daryl and Ace had used to communicate in the woods. There'd been one in particular Michonne just couldn't seem to get right, and Merle had given her shit about it over and over again.

"Can't track, huh?" Rick whispered, nodding at the ground when they reached him. 

"Shit, brother. Anyone can see that. I can almost tell the damn boot size!" Shane whispered back. There in the mud, clear as day, was the imprint of a booted foot. It was so obvious Shane almost wondered if it had been planted there, but who in the hell would take the time to do that? "That ain't skill, it's luck." 

"Whatever works," Michonne said with a shrug, eyes dancing. "Besides, I'm pretty sure it was more luck than anything else for Merle too." 

Shane couldn't argue with that. 

The six of them followed the occasional footprint, communicating in whistles and gestures. Rosita and Tara watched their backs, Rick and Shane tracked (sort of), and Michonne and Aaron covered them, a well-oiled machine ready for anything. 

And somehow they still ended up surrounded. 

Shane turned slowly, taking in the silent figures that had appeared from fucking nowhere, all of them armed and looking far too competent with their guns for Shane's taste. 

"Saviors?" he muttered. 

Rick had a wild edge to his voice, his back to Shane's. "No, I don't think so." 

"Yeah, me neither. Hey, Rick." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. Shane looked away from the silent throng still filtering out of the overgrown buildings surrounding them, and sure enough, Rick was smiling. "I'm with you, 22." 

"You're insane is what you are." But Shane considered them, armed to the teeth and still utterly silent, and he could feel himself smiling too.


	28. Lie #28: "Merle Tripped On The Playground After School." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> references to past domestic violence/abuse  
> past child abuse

You put on the fucking dress and waited with the others. Amber was a mess already and this time you couldn't even blame her. Hell, you were a mess, and no one you loved had gotten the iron.

The weird thing was, no one was in the chair. And nobody seemed to know who had fucked up this time, and you'd asked. All you'd gotten out of Dwight, leaning against the furnace staring at the coals within, was a long stare and a 'you'll see'. So much for that brief bit of camaraderie you'd developed. 

Laura and Eugene came along the walkway, only making it halfway down the stairs before Negan wandered in and everyone except the semi-circle of wives took a knee. She always seemed vaguely annoyed about something, but Laura looked downright irritated as she smacked Eugene's leg and gestured him to kneel as well. You wondered if she hated Eugene as much as you did. 

Negan didn't speak, but he gestured like a priest for everyone to rise, both arms spread and Lucille out. He copied Dwight, staring into the furnace with an expression that sent a chill down your spine and set the scar on your back burning. He was pissed. He was so fucking pissed, and your mind began to race with what could possibly be wrong and how it could be your fault and- 

"You are gonna want to pay close attention to this," Negan declared, pointing Lucille up at the terrified Eugene. Even his tone had you tense, studying his shoulders and his eyes for any hint that he was about to snap and start swinging. 

You still jumped when he did, taking the bat to Dr. Carson's arm in a move he didn't telegraph at all, and your breath caught with blind fear for one endless moment. The doctor fell with a cry, and Jessie and Rob hauled him to his feet and held him in place while he pleaded. 

"No, no, no, no! Why? I didn't do anything!" 

You came unfrozen as abruptly as the fear had paralyzed you; reaching for Amber's hand as you deliberately didn't look at Dwight. Amber jerked away and you didn't take it personally. You didn't like her much either, really. Had D figured out what you were trying to say? How had- 

"I found this little souvenir tucked away in your desk," Negan said softly. He held a scrap of paper up, in front of the doctor's wide, confused eyes. Something was written on it, but you were too far away to read what. 

It didn't matter anyway, since whatever it was certainly hadn't been the doctor's. Dwight had framed him. You'd told him you'd back him if he said Sherry was dead, and now you knew for certain that she wasn't. If only the bastard had bothered to let you know what the fucking story was before he took it to Negan and sprung this on all of you, damn it.

The doc protested that he didn't know what the paper was, and Negan slammed the tip of Lucille into his stomach in response. You'd expected it this time, and you were the only one of the wives who didn't jerk in pained sympathy. Negan held out Lucille toward you without turning in your direction. You hesitated, not sure what he wanted. Did he want you to take that fucking bat? Or someone else?

After a pause, he shot rage-filled eyes your way, jerking the bat emphatically in your direction. Like when Will would wave his empty bottle at you, your feet shot you forward, almost clumsy with fear and in heels. Your hand shook as you took it from him and you glared at your fingers like they'd betrayed you somehow.

You tried not to think about swinging Lucille at his fucking head. You didn't succeed, but you tried not to. 

He grabbed the heavy glove he'd worn last time and wandered back over to the doctor with a sigh. "You… left the door open and let my puppy out." 

You did look at Dwight now, and he must have felt your eyes on him. He turned, expression never changing, and met your look for a moment before staring back into the furnace. Oh, he'd definitely framed the doctor. If he'd found Sherry at all, she'd confessed to letting Darrie out and Dwight had let her go. But really, you doubted he'd found her. She was a smart bitch, and she'd have to run far and run fast to get away from Negan.

You wondered why she'd did it. She'd seemed the most comfortable, really, with the whole harem situation. She'd even actually liked Negan. You could tell. What had prompted her to run, leaving D behind?

"You knew Sherry hated Daryl being here, so you let him out for her. Be the hero! Then you could move in. That is some weaselly shit right there." 

You fought the urge to lift an eyebrow. Sherry hated Daryl being here? She'd never fucking mentioned that to you. Then again, you hadn't been exactly excited to talk to her about your brother. Either of them. 

"But I didn't! She's the one who ran-" the doctor protested. 

"Oh, she ran? You know why she ran?" Negan's face contorted as he yelled, and your hands locked around the bat as your breath caught again. When Will roared like that, it was usually followed by the snicking sound of his belt being pulled off, and white-hot stinging along your shoulders or a pinched look in your brothers' eyes. Between the roar of his voice and Negan's expression, your feet rooted to the spot. You couldn't have moved if you tried and you hoped to hell not a hint of it was showing on the outside. You breathed slowly and carefully, trying to keep yourself in the here and now, not back in a run down apartment with Will up in your face about the place not being clean. 

Negan's voice softened. "Because she knew I would blame her, which… I did. But, see, Sherry told Dwighty boy the whole story, right before she was torn apart. A super hot girl, horrifically killed because of your greedy, delusional, and tiny little prick." 

"That's not true," Dr. Carson sobbed out. "Dwight?" 

Dwight didn't move. 

"He's lying. I didn't do that!" 

"Why? Why would he lie? Why would he intentionally try to hurt you?" Negan demanded. "Sherry's gone. And if he's lyin', and she's out there, I will find her. And then I will burn the other side of his face off until he dies. So," Negan gestured with mock-interest, eyes wide and curious. "What was he gonna get out of this?" 

Dr. Carson turned terrified eyes your way, and you looked down at the bat in your hands. Negan's chuckle made you swallow and lick dry lips, a shiver running down your spine.

"No. You see, I know my Dwighty boy. You see, all he needed was one more night in the hole, to get his head screwed on straight. It worked before; it worked now. Ain't that right, Dwight?" 

Personally, you had a feeling Negan was wrong about it working, but Dwight turned away from the flames with a nod. "Oh, yeah." 

He pulled the iron out of the coals for Negan to take, and Negan sauntered back to the doctor. He paused beside you and leaned in close, carefully holding the iron away from you. "Breathe, Slugger. I already told you, I don't hit my women. Just… try not to puke this time, ok?" 

You glared at him in silence. Clearly you weren't covering as well as you thought you were, goddamn it. This place- this smug bastard- was tearing down every bit of your armor and turning you back into the woman who let Will and Mal beat her up and break her down. You hated it. You hated him, and you hated even more that there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You had to keep the baby safe. So you kept your mouth shut and didn't tell him to go the fuck to hell, and he winked while Dr. Carson blubbered. 

"Please. Please, please, oh Jesus, don't burn me, please!" 

The slow, satisfied smile was both worse and better than the barely-restrained rage. If Negan was smiling, at least you knew he was in control. He was enjoying himself now, sick bastard, but at least he wasn't unpredictable. That helped, and you adjusted the bat in your hands as Negan brought the iron up and the doctor struggled in Jessie and Rob's hold. 

"Now, you know I hate this shit," Negan said sadly. "Just tell me you did it and you're sorry and I don't have to do this!" 

Why did you not believe that? And Dr. Carson would be a fool too. 

He was a fool. He blurted out an admission, one you knew without even looking at Dwight was false, and followed it with a blubbered apology. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see Negan burn him anyway. You knew how it went in situations like this. Abusive assholes- and Negan was an abusive asshole, for all that he didn't, necessarily, abuse his women- were all the same. They'd dangle the carrot, then come in with the stick. 

Actually, you thought semi-hysterically, you might have been holding the stick. 

Either way, you'd seen this dance before. Apologizing only delayed the inevitable, or added a layer of shame and self-loathing to the whole experience. Negan would burn him, and-

The iron hit the ground with a clank and your eyes shot open in surprise. Negan stood, arms spread again, smile on his lips reminding you of the way a cat yawned- pointedly showing its teeth. "That's all you had to say," Negan said softly, jovially. "That is all you had to say." 

He stared up at Eugene and you blew out a breath. You let yourself relax. You thought it was over. 

Then he grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and shoved him head first into the furnace, and your mouth opened but no sound came out. The world swam brutally for one ugly moment, and you thought you would pass the fuck out right there. 

A hand closed on your elbow and you steadied. You waited a beat longer before opening your eyes to see Dwight's concerned face. 

"You alright?" 

You nodded, not quite sure you wouldn't throw up if you opened your mouth. D nodded and let you go as Negan walked up a slung an arm around his shoulders with a chuckle.

"Good thing we got a spare Dr. Carson. You good, princess? You're looking kinda pale- but you didn't puke this time." 

You tried not to breathe- the air smelled like barbecue and you thought about Shane's description of Terminus and your stomach churned again- and glared at him. "Was that really necessary? With all the dramatics?" 

"Of course it was, sweetheart. Had to make sure everyone, and I mean everyone, was on the up and up." He patted Dwight on the back and shot him a crooked grin. "I trust you, Dwighty boy. Never should have doubted you. Sherry was one of my favorites. I'm sorry." 

"I'm not," D snapped. 

Negan let out an appreciative whistle. "Ice cold! I love it. Alright. Someone clean this up. We gotta get me the other Dr. Carson. He's one of them baby doctors. My princess here is gonna need him!" 

You blinked in shock when you realized who he meant. How had you not put this doctor together with the kind man your people had rescued on your first trip to Hilltop, who'd done the sonogram pictures of Maggie and Glenn's baby? 

Grief swam up unexpectedly, thinking about Glenn's smile and Abraham's baffling questions about pancakes and Bisquick. He was dead now, strange redheaded bastard. And Maggie and Glenn and the baby, too- all three of them gone. A whole family, and it was your fault, really. 

Negan offered you his arm, and you blinked away the tears as you took it. He leaned over and grabbed Lucille from you, swinging her up to his shoulder with a smile. "Thanks, Slugger. Come on now. I think you should get some rest." 

The knock at your door sounded annoyed. You didn't know exactly how a knock could sound annoyed, but that one did. As did the voice that followed it. 

"We know you're awake, Ace. We need to talk to you." 

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling and mouthed 'why?' Why did they keep coming to you with shit? You didn't care. You didn't give a single damn about anyone in this place. 

You tossed your book onto the bed with a sigh. "It's open." 

Frankie strode in, as poised and polished as ever, but with temper flashing in her eyes. Tanya looked more pissed off, but she wasn't as good at hiding her emotions as Frankie was. Frankie, you thought in amusement, had worked a customer service job. As a chef, Tanya had been largely insulated from dealing with the general public. A licensed masseuse- especially a pretty female one- had dealt with the public more than she probably ever wanted to. 

You got that. 

"You two do realize I'm in exactly the same position you are, right? If you fucked up somehow, there's very little I can do to fix it," you said by way of greeting. 

Frankie looked down her nose at you. It was an impressive look, but you'd grown up with Daryl and Merle Dixon. No one could do withering scorn like your brothers, and you remained unmoved by her attempt. "You know perfectly well that you could get away with anything right now," she snapped. 

You rolled your eyes and waited for them to tell you what the hell they were doing in your room again. Frankie sat down, crossing her ankles elegantly and shaking her head with a sigh. 

"We went to see Eugene again," Tanya declared. "He's such a coward!" 

"Wouldn't make you pills?" you asked dryly. "What a shock." 

"No, he made them. But he wouldn't give them to us. Said he knew they were for Negan, which was why we wanted two." Frankie sounded bitter and tired, and you eyed her. "He said if we told Negan he'd made them, Negan wouldn't believe us, because we're expendable. He isn't." 

You scoffed. "I warned you. He's right. Every one of us is expendable." 

"Not you," Tanya said softly. "You're not. You have his baby." 

"And what a delight that is for me," you shot back at her. "What exactly do you want me to do?" 

"I don't know. Something!" Frankie exploded. "Something other than draw all day and act like you hate us." 

"Oh, honey, it's not acting," you shot back. "Fine. I'll figure out how to handle Eugene. He needs to go, but it's not going to be easy. In the mean time, you two need to stop trying to scheme. You aren't good at it, and you clearly don't have any experience conning people." 

"And I suppose you can do better?" 

You smiled at Tanya, the bartender's smile that lit up your eyes and had fooled everyone, even Shane, for so long. "Of course I can. I've been doing it my whole life." 

"Here's the thing, lil girl- ya Daddy's ace in the hole, aight? Ya clean up real nice, an' everybody loves it when ya smile. So. Ya gonna smile really pretty for the lady comin' over, aight?" 

You nodded solemnly, but you were so confused. "Why, Daddy? Who is it?" 

Will crouched in front of you and took your hands in his. His eyes were big and sad, his expression so serious that your breath caught. You'd done something wrong, hadn't you? You weren't supposed to ask questions like that. Maybe you should go bring him a beer, and- 

"'Cause she's a bad lady, sweetie," Will said. "She wants ta take you'n ya brothers away from yer daddy." 

Your eyes shot to Merle, hovering in the doorway with a carefully blank expression. Maybe being taken away wouldn't be so bad. After all, Merle had a big bruise on his cheek and his back was all tore up, and your arm hurt under the sleeve of the pretty dress Daddy had brought and told you to put on. 

"She'll split us all up. If she don't see an' hear what she wants to see an' hear, she'll send you and ya brothers away, an' ya won't never see none of us again. You hear me, lil girl?" 

That got your attention, and your lip started to tremble. You sniffed, telling yourself that Dixons don't cry. "I hear you. I don't wanna go away, Daddy. I don't want Merle or Darrie to go away." 

"That's right, sweetie. So, ya gotta do and say what I tell ya, aight? Smile pretty now," Will whispered, swiping his fingers under your eyes. "Dixons don't cry. Don't let 'em see fear." 

You took a deep breath and smiled, and Will smiled back at you with a chuckle. "That's it, lil girl! Now. If she asks about Merle's eye, whatcha say?" 

You looked over at Merle, hesitating, but he nodded encouragingly. "What, that? Merle tripped on the playground after school." 

"That's my girl! Little ace in the hole. Them innocent eyes!" Will pulled you into a rough hug, and you closed your eyes and leaned into it. 

"Daddy?" 

"Yeah?" he asked, letting you go and straightening your dress. 

You chewed on your fingernail for a minute, then tilted your head. "Did the bad lady make Mama go away? If I'm good enough, will she come back?" 

Will's face hardened and shut down and your eyes went wide. You'd made another mistake. Will rose abruptly and headed for the door when the knock sounded on it, not answering your question. 

You looked at your toes and tried not to cry again. She was here. The bad lady was here, and you needed to smile. 

Merle's hand curled around yours on one side, and Darrie's on the other, and you gripped their fingers hard and took a deep breath. When you looked up, you were smiling. 

Will closed the door behind the lady, who hadn't been mean at all like you'd expected. She'd been very nice, actually. She'd asked some questions, looked around your apartment, and sat on your bed and handed you crayons one at a time while you colored in the new coloring book she'd brought you. 

It'd been easy to smile and laugh and talk to her, and you hoped she'd come visit again. 

On the other hand, she had asked about Merle's face, and you'd rolled your eyes and laughed. "He was chasing Darrie and he tripped on his shoelaces! Silly Merle!" 

"Silly Merle," the lady had agreed, and wrote something in her notebook. 

You stood, hands twisting into the skirt of your dress, and waited to see how badly you'd screwed it up. Merle and Darrie waited with you, and you stole glances at your twin and your big brother. They looked just as nervous as you were. 

Then Will turned around, and he was smiling so big you blinked in surprise. He covered the room in two strides and you let out an involuntary squeak of fear when he scooped you up. 

But he was hugging you, and you wound your arms around his neck and hugged him back as he laughed again. "Oh, well done. Well done, my little Ace! You really are Daddy's ace in the hole, aren't you? You did perfectly, sweetie. Now go get Daddy a beer," he added, kissing your cheek before he set you on your feet. 

You were beaming as you darted to the fridge and took a can carefully out. 

He was happy. Merle looked relieved as Will flopped in his chair and turned on the tv, lighting the cigarette already between his lips. He smiled again as he took the beer from you and ruffled your hair. "Thanks, Ace. You done good, lil girl. Daddy needs some alone time now, so you three go play in your room." 

You grabbed Darrie's hand and skipped off, Merle trailing along behind. You'd done good.


	29. Lie #29: "But I Didn't Think You'd Actually Succeed!" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

They were greasy and dirty, dressed in tattered scraps and layers of clothing that blended in with the garbage dump Shane smelled before he saw. He blinked in the bright sunlight, emerging from the shipping container tunnel and into a clearing, surrounded by piles of garbage and abandoned items. Paths lead through the heaps and stacks, but the world outside wasn't visible. 

Rick couldn't stop smiling. Shane kept trying to count heads, but they milled around soundlessly and everyone looked alike, and Shane had a sneaking feeling they were doing it on purpose. Disguising their numbers. 

"Are you a collective, or does one lead?" 

They'd finally stilled, and Shane was still trying to get a head count, but the question had him giving up on that to focus on the here and now. He glanced at Rick when he couldn't find the source of the voice, and a woman behind Rick shoved him forward. 

"This," she said, glaring at Shane when he automatically moved toward her. Shoving Rick around wasn't something anyone but him got to do, damn it. 

Rick held up a calming hand as another woman separated from the crowd, standing very straight and looking at them all like they were insane. Shane didn't know why she'd think that, considering her people apparently called a garbage dump home, but whatever. He figured these guys also were not a collective, and this was who lead them. 

"Hi. I'm Rick." 

Shane almost cracked up laughing right then. Weird-ass situation, weird-ass woman, Rick Grimes acted like he did this shit every day. Damn it, Shane did not know how the man did it. 

"We own your lives. Wanna buy them back?" the woman said, tone haughty. Shane had caught her expression though, and he wondered if Rick realized she'd been thinking about having him for breakfast, food optional. "Have anything?" 

"Well, you have one of my people," Rick said. "Gabriel. I wanna see him first, then we can talk." 

Shane thought she'd refuse, but she jerked her chin at the one who'd shoved Rick, and Shane took a moment to make sure their little band was all keeping their cool while they waited. Rosita looked like she was bored; Tara was concerned and wary; Michonne's face was cool and calm; and Aaron was braced and ready. Shane figured that was the best they could ask for, and turned to watch them lead Gabriel in. 

The priest was missing his usual shirt and collar, but looked unharmed. Shane was surprised, all things considered. Gabriel looked even more surprised to see them there.

"The boat things you took got taken. Saw them, so we took the rest. And we took him." 

Shane had to admire Rick's calm as he shrugged and stared the woman down. "Then you know we have nothing to buy back our lives with." 

He then rolled right into speech mode, like only Rick could do. "That's what you'll have soon-- nothing. Cause me and my people- we already belong to that group that took the boat things. They're called the Saviors. They own our lives. And if you kill us, you'll be taking something from them. And they will come looking." 

The woman stared at him expressionlessly. Shane wasn't the biggest fan in the world of saying the Saviors owned his life, but it wasn't exactly all that far from the truth. And if it worked to get them out of this bullshit and maybe gain some allies- cause that's what they really needed; to turn these freaks into their allies- then whatever. Shane could deal. 

"You only have two options when it comes to the Saviors-- either they kill you or they own you. But there is a way out. Join us. Join us in fighting them," Rick said intensely, stepping closer and leveling the woman with his stubborn bastard expression. 

She flicked her eyes up and down Rick before giving him an amused look. "No."

Shane sighed and turned when she gestured. Her henchmen grabbed Gabriel's arms and started to lead him away again, and he grabbed Tara's arm when she whirled with eyes wide. 

And then the fight started. 

He didn't know exactly what had happened. He didn't know if it was their people- he suspected Rosita's trigger-happy ass- or if these freaks had decided to be done with them. Either way, it went from stand-off to chaos in seconds. Shane flipped the one who grabbed him over his shoulder and to the ground, setting his boot on the man's neck and leaning in to suffocate the bastard when Rick screamed for everyone to wait. Shane shot him an annoyed look, wondering why Rick thought they could talk their way out of something had clearly already been decided, and Gabriel's voice cut across the fighting. 

"Let us go, or I will kill her!" 

The father had gotten a knife to the neck of the woman who'd shoved Rick forward. The woman in charge had seemed utterly unbothered by the threat, but Gabriel managed to talk their way out of things with his own blind belief that Rick could do anything. The promise of future bounty when they defeated the Saviors and Gabriel's impassioned speech about what his group could do seemed to sway her.

Or so Shane thought. As usual, things went off track right about then. Instead of naming what she wanted them to go out and find, she shifted her amused eyes to her own people.

"Tamiel. Brion. Show Rick Up Up Up." 

Shane had no idea what that meant, but he had a feeling it wasn't good. "Brother?" he whispered as two of the garbage people closed in on Rick. 

"It's ok," Rick whispered back. "Keep things calm." 

Michonne grabbed Rick's hand as he started to follow them, and Rick turned to smile at her. "It's ok," he repeated. He didn't look back at them again as he disappeared around a garbage pile with the weird trio.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Shane muttered to no one in particular. 

Michonne snorted. 

As usual, Shane's bad feeling had been correct. He watched the others as Rick and the weird woman appeared on top of one of the garbage piles. They talked for a moment, and the next thing Shane knew she was shoving Rick over the edge of the pile. 

"Rick!" He and Michonne yelled at the same time, Michonne's hand grabbing Shane's arm like a claw. He pulled her toward the pile, and the pipes shoved into it that made windows. "Rick? You ok, brother?" 

"I'm ok," Rick called, and Shane breathed a sigh of relief when Rick rolled to his feet and waved. 

That relief proved short-lived and rather premature. Something growled from the depths of the garbage, and Shane watched helplessly as Rick fought a metal-and-spike covered walker with only what he could pull from the garbage pile walls. 

Shane had no fucking clue how that man did this shit. Honestly, it was a miracle he was fucking alive. 

At least Michonne had her head on straight, somehow calming when Rick was in mortal danger. "The walls! Use them!" she yelled. 

Shane wasn't sure if he was holding her hand or she was holding his, but Rick brought garbage raining down from the sky to pin the spike covered nightmare down. Then he grabbed a piece of something- Shane couldn't see exactly what- and started hacking away. A lot of grunting and one or two additional heart attacks for Shane later, Rick stood up, panting, and yelled at the woman at the top of the pile. 

"You believe us now? Just tell us what you want, and we'll get it."

Shane shoved his free hand through his hair and closed his eyes, Michonne's fingers still crushing his other hand in her worried grip. "I want you to stop getting yourself into this kind of shit, damn it." 

Michonne made a noise, and Shane wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying.

He blinked at his best friend, skeptical as all hell. "You did what?" 

Rick shrugged and took another bite of his Snickers. "I got the PTA to give us candy in the vending machines again." 

"Nope, that still doesn't compute, dude," Shane said after another pause. "How? They were all gung-ho about healthy eatin' habits and shit."

Rick shrugged again, gesturing toward the doors with his candy. "Go look. I told you I was gonna talk to them at the meeting last month." 

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually succeed!" Shane tossed the football up and caught it, watching Sheila and Katie practicing cartwheels out in the field. Some kid he didn't know ran by chasing a kickball, and Shane tossed the football up again. 

Rick snatched it from the air on the way back down, and Shane lifted an eyebrow at his friend. Rick shrugged. "I'm persuasive." 

"I'll say," he agreed. They both backed up and Shane caught the ball when Rick tossed it. He placed his fingers precisely and tried to spiral it on the way back to Rick. He only partly succeeded. "Man, I dunno what it is, but I swear you can do anything." 

"Naw," Rick disagreed. "I'm shit at math." 

"Language, Mr. Grimes." 

"Sorry, Mrs. Hendricks," Rick apologized to the sixth grade history teacher who'd wandered by just in time to catch Rick's cuss word.

Shane flashed him a grin and muttered when she was gone, coming over and stealing a bite from Rick's candy. "Yeah, Mr. Grimes. Watch your damn language." 

"You too, Mr. Walsh!"

Shane rolled his eyes at Rick's shit-eating grin.

Their weapons were dumped in a pile, and Rick came limping around the corner smiling. His hand looked like it'd been dipped in red paint it was so bloody, but the bastard was smiling.

"We have a deal," he called. 

Shane pressed his hands to his eyes as Michonne darted to meet Rick. Rick fucking Grimes, he thought again. How the fuck did he do this shit?

Not only did he behead the walker with a shard of glass, a gash in his leg, and a spike through his hand- and he was damn lucky he'd missed any major tendons- but the man had negotiated for half their stolen supplies back and knocked the woman in charge down from demanding half the winnings after the fight to a third. 

Turns out, what Jadis- what the woman called herself- wanted to join the fight and not feed them all to walkers was guns. A lot of guns. 

Shane muttered to himself as he roughly bandaged Rick's hand. "Where the fuck we gonna get a lot of guns, man? I mean shit, they were that easy to find we'd have fuckin' done it already." 

"You know you're bitching at me, or you doing it without realizing it?" Rick asked dryly. 

Shane shot a glare at both him and the weird garbage dude carrying a tote to Gabriel's car and shut up. 

Gabriel himself sighed. "I heard something while on watch. Something from inside the walls. I went to the pantry and one of them jumped me. She was angry because she didn't get the supplies from the boat, after all that waiting. So she made me pack up everything else. When she said she was at the boat, I hoped…" 

"You didn't just hope. You acted," Rick said. "Ow. Damn it, Shane."

Shane snorted and tucked the ends of the bandage under. "Stop bitching."

"I was beginning to lose faith," Gabriel replied softly, not looking at either of them. "But then I saw you, Rick, and you nodded at me. I mean, just the fact that you knew I didn't leave, that you searched and found me, that, seeing these numbers, you seemed so… glad." 

"Insane, you mean," Shane muttered. 

"We will set things right. But things are going to get very hard before that time." Gabriel met Shane's eyes and held them seriously. "We have to hold on. I will. Thank you. Thank you both." 

Shane snorted and looked away. "Thank him, not me." 

"No, I'm going to thank you both. But… What made you smile? What made you so confident?" The father sounded confused and Shane half-laughed at the same time Rick did. 

"He's a fucking lunatic, that's what," he informed Gabriel. 

Rick just rolled his eyes and gripped Shane's shoulder. He looked at the preacher and shrugged. "Someone showed me enemies can become friends." 

Shane blinked at his best friend and groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. "Brother, that's- shit. I'm not even gonna talk about that. Listen, father. When I get my girl back, I'm asking her to marry me for real. You'll do it, right? She's demanded a priest or a justice of the peace, and you're all I've got." 

"I'd be honored," Gabriel said softly. "I'm surprised you haven't asked before now, as many jokes as you've made." 

"Yeah, well. Maybe we weren't friends yet," Shane said, flashing him a grin. 

"Guns. Soon." 

Shane had been supervising Tara and Rosita arguing over Rosita's fuck-everything attitude and what was more important, searching for guns or taking the food back home, but when Tamiel spoke, he straightened up and stepped to Rick's shoulder. Jadis' people stood perfectly still, staring them down. 

"Soon. Or else," Brion declared. As abruptly as everything else had been with these people, he walked away. The rest of them followed soundlessly, and Shane shook his head. 

"Brother, how do you find these people?" 

Rick shot him a look. "These guys found us, remember?" 

"Fair enough," Shane muttered, grabbing one end of a tote of supplies. Rick snagged the other end, and together they hauled it over to Gabriel's car. 

"Once we get you stitched up we go right back out and find the guns, right?" Michonne asked softly. 

"That's right," Rick agreed. "Shane-" 

"Yeah, I'm stayin'. I'll keep an eye on the kids and the home front, in case he comes back. He'll want me visible," Shane muttered, grimacing at nothing. He hoped to hell Negan didn't put in an appearance while Rick was gone, cause Shane's temper was a on a real short leash these days, and he didn't know if he'd be able to keep from braining Negan with one of the candlesticks he'd used as a bat that one time. 

Rick nodded, eyes serious. "Can you handle that?" 

Shane's scoff was awful dismissive for someone who'd just been debating that very question himself, but what the fuck else was he gonna do? Tara set the last tote in the trunk, and Michonne shifted her sword along her back with a frown. 

"Do you have any idea where to look?" 

Shane had been wondering that as well, but Rick's shrug didn't exactly instill him with confidence. Then again, it was Rick, so Shane wasn't sure why he was questioning this shit. Rick would make it happen. 

"No, but that's never stopped us before," Rick said easily. "Tara, you've been out further than any of us. At least you can tell us where not to look, right?" 

Tara's eyes widened and her smile was a little off when Rick ran his hand down her arm. "Uh. Yeah. Right," she stammered. 

Shane eyed her as she beat an almost hasty retreat over to Aaron, wondering what was up with all that. "Hey, man, we ready to get the hell out of here?" 

"Yeah. Just a second," Rick said absently. 

Shane and Michonne glanced at each other, and she looked just as confused as Shane felt. They both watched as he wandered over to one of the walls, and Shane studied the limp and hoped Rick wasn't pushing it too damn hard. The slice was shallow, but still. 

Then he was back, fucking wire cat sculpture in his hands, and grinning at Michonne like a fool. Shane closed his eyes and tried not to completely lose his shit when Rick presented it to Michonne with a flourish. 

"Why?" Michonne asked, laughter in her voice. 

"Because we won," Rick said easily. Then his voice dropped, and Shane turned away from the fondness in it and in their eyes as they looked at each other. "And to replace the one you lost." 

Shane vaguely remembered that luridly colored cat Michonne had brought back from King County and kept in her cell at the prison, and it made his chest ache. He remembered a lot of things they'd lost in the prison, but it was the couple's moment she and Rick had just shared that made him hurt. 

God, he missed his Slugger. Soon, sweetheart. Soon, he promised, knowing full well it might just be another of his endless string of last call lies to her. They had to find guns for these bastards, and make their plans, and- 

"Alright. Let's go," Rick called. 

Shane grabbed the passenger door and swung into the car.


	30. Lie #30: "That Was All It Was." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

He should have slept at Rick's. Shane knew it as soon as he let himself into their house, a place he'd been avoiding these days since it stood so empty and silent all the damn time without the light and life Slugger and her idiot brothers gave it. But he'd patched up Rick, helped him and Michonne convince Carl to stay in Alexandria, kissed Judy, and helped stock the van for the two of them. They'd made their plans, Shane had seen them off and conferred with Tobin on the guard schedule, and he'd let himself inside for a shower and some sleep without really thinking about it. 

Now he was clean and exhausted and staring at the Atlanta skyline, eating… what the hell was he eating? He honestly wasn't sure, but whatever it was, he was eating it straight from a can and trying his damndest not to think. 

He wasn't doing so hot at it. 

He stabbed at another bite of mystery food and spoke around it as he chewed. "You know something, Slugger? You're too damn good at this art shit. I swear, I'd think I was standing in your apartment and looking out at the window right now. Kinda wish I was, honestly." 

He shifted, taking another bite. He'd spent a fair number of nights on her couch looking out at this view. He could almost smell the paint and hear some sappy love song playing in the background as she worked, humming and singing every few lines. 

He loved listening to her sort of sing along almost as much as he loved teasing her about her taste in music. 

"Maybe if I was back there, and you were behind me with a damn airbrush or a can of spray paint or a brush in hand, that one shirt of mine you stole on… All covered in paint, all the way down to the soles of your feet, I mean how the fuck you manage that, sweetheart? I never could figure it out," he said, laughing as he shook his head at the mental image of her up on her toes, streaks of blue and orange visible on the soles of her feet as she reached up. 

She'd damn near killed him that night, cause the shirt she'd stolen from him had ridden up as well, and he'd been staring at her ass in black lacy underwear a little too fucking long before he reminded himself it was Slugger. 

He laughed again and gestured with the fork as he went for another bite. "I don't know, Ace. Maybe if I got a do-over I'd be smarter about shit. I'd take you out for breakfast that morning. Carl's project would have waited a few hours. Or hell, even if I didn't do that, 'cause I was freaked that morning, sweetheart, freaked over how much I wanted to stay in your bed and have my hands all in that blue hair of yours again- If I didn't get it together that day, I'd like to think I would have after that. Maybe that night you were painting. Should have told you how hard I was thinking about pinning you up against that wall and seein' how much paint I could get all over the rest of you." 

He looked down into the nearly empty can, dropping his fork into it and shoving off the back of the couch. He ran his fingers over Ace's tag, shaking his head at himself as he turned for the kitchen. "I miss you, Slugger," he whispered. "Goin' a little nuts here without you, it seems. Better be doing whatever it takes to get your ass back to me, you hear? You'd have liked Jadis. You'd have taken one look at her and wanted to sketch. Rick stole Michonne a cat. I'm pretty sure Jadis made it."

He wandered into the kitchen, washed off his fork, grabbed a glass of water. Wandered back into the living room and collapsed on the couch. 

He stretched out, one arm behind his head, and stared at the ceiling as he thought about her toes shoved up under his knee. "You'd have rolled your eyes at me. Almost got in a fight with Rick today." 

Yeah, he should have crashed at Rick's, he thought. Now he was the crazy bastard in an empty house, falling asleep talking to a woman who wasn't there. 

He wasn't really sure what he was doing here. He was fine to drive, and it would have been smarter to head on home, especially since Ace was on with the asshole and the last time Shane had crashed on her couch while they were together things had been tense and weird when he'd let himself into her place the next morning. Three months later and Shane still didn't like the vibe he'd gotten that day, but she said they'd just argued a little and Malcolm had gotten over it.

He felt kinda bad that he was enough of a stresser in her relationship that they argued about him being on her couch or about him coming to hang at live-music nights to the point that she'd asked him not to. If he was that much of a problem, he definitely shouldn't be crashing here. It couldn't be making things easier for her. 

But she'd turned pleading eyes on him and said she felt like they'd barely seen each other in ages, and didn't he have tomorrow off? So, come home with her and they'd hang out the next day, maybe try some new place Jason had been raving about. 

And here he was, looking out her window and listening to Sixpence None the Richer pleading for kisses while she painted. She'd been right; they hadn't seen each other in ages, and this felt oddly comfortable, like when he let himself into Rick and Lori's and toed his shoes off at the backdoor. 

"Do you listen to anything that doesn't give you a cavity two lines in, Slugger?"

Silence greeted him, and Shane rolled his eyes at Atlanta and turned to lean on the window. She was gone, so deep in the painting she wasn't even half-singing anymore, and Shane stared like he usually did. 

She was so fucking graceful, like it was a dance, he thought as he watched her. She wasn't doing any of her usual mediums today. No spray paint or airbrush, compressor humming along. He'd had to replace the plug in her wall for her when she blew the damn thing out with that air compressor about six months ago. How the hell she'd done that, neither of them could figure out. 

Tonight she'd busted out oils, and while the painting was over-sized enough that she'd have to stand on her toes to get to the top, she'd also drug an easel out of somewhere to prop her canvas on. He hadn't even known she knew how to use oils, but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. She could do anything. 

She had paint on her bare legs. Shit, she had paint on the soles of her feet, he noticed, half-laughing to himself when she pushed up on her toes and stretched up toward the top of the canvas. How the hell did she do that? His eyes followed the deep blue and burnt pumpkin paint up her leg, and he swallowed hard when he realized he was staring at her ass, barely covered in black lace. 

She'd changed as soon as they hit the door, into that shirt she'd apparently stolen from him, and he'd noticed her bare legs but hadn't thought anything of it at the time. Slugger was usually showing some skin, between those tanks she liked to wear in the summer or her relaxed approach when around him. He barely noticed anymore. 

But shit, there was something about his shirt and that visible lace and the way she moved- 

He knew how much she loved her art, and he wouldn't dream of fucking up one of her works, but he wanted to spin her around, shove her up against that painting, and see what kind of abstract nonsense they'd made on the canvas and on her body when he was done with her. 

She dropped back down with a small sigh and Shane wrenched his eyes away from her ass as his shirt shifted and covered her again. He blinked a few times, running a hand through his hair, and pushed off the window to head into the bathroom. He needed a minute, and maybe a drink. 

What the hell was he doing, fantasizing about fucking Slugger? Sure, they'd had fun that one night- ok, that memory was not helping- but they were friends. She was his best friend. That was it. 

Besides, she was dating that asshole. 

Jesus, he needed to get laid. That was all it was. It'd been a minute since he'd gone out- a month or so at least- and he just needed to get laid. He told himself that firmly in the mirror, leaning both hands on the counter and giving himself a solid talking to. 

Then he came out of the bathroom and she was on her toes again, and he very deliberately turned around and went into her kitchen. Not only did he need a drink, but he was going to do something he didn't normally do and snap her out of it. He might get decked, but that was fine. She had to stop going up on her toes like that, or Shane was going to do something stupid.

It took them three days. Shane had managed a couple small crises, sent scavengers out for food, stood on the wall and contemplated making a run for the Sanctuary, and taken up residence on Rick's couch after talking to a painting the first night. He was short tempered and irritable, standing on the wall with Aaron and discussing ways to shore up their security when shit finally hit the fan. 

One look at the van pulling up had him baring his teeth in a feral smile. 

"Get the gate open! Rick's back!" he yelled down to Francine. He clapped Aaron on the shoulder and jerked his chin toward the ground. "Find you a replacement, man. Let's go." 

Michonne had a pinched look around her eyes, like something had gone wrong, and Shane made a note to see what kind of reckless stupidity Rick had gotten himself into while they were out there, but she smiled and hugged him when he half-jogged up. "We found some." 

"Yeah?" 

She nodded. Rick appeared and Shane did the hugging again, as well as a quick scan for any physical evidence of being a dumbass. There wasn't any, and Rick slapped him on the back and nodded at the van. "Gotta be fifty or more." 

"That's a lot of guns," Shane commented. 

Rick grabbed the back door and hauled it open, and Shane let out a low whistle as he surveyed the arsenal in the back. "Yeah," Rick agreed. "It's a lot of guns." 

"So." He picked one up and checked the magazine, lifting it to his shoulder to sight along the barrel. "We taking a field trip?"

Shane was less happy about being in the garbage dump than he'd been the first time, especially after Rick had told him the damn spike walker had been named Winslow and might have been a pet. What kind of freaks named walkers and kept them pinned in garbage heaps? 

Shit, the apocalypse made for some weird fucking allies. 

"Operational? All?" 

Shane leaned against the side of the van as Jadis studied the guns, wondering if this was what the future of the human race really looked like. Weird ass mannerisms and condensed speech, living in garbage dumps, scavenging for half-rotted canned beans, and fighting each other instead of focusing on the dead. Damn, humans never changed. Shane was pretty sure humanity would make itself extinct in an effort to find out who had the biggest balls. 

"To the best of my knowledge, yeah," Rick said with a shrug. "They need some cleaning. We found supplies." 

Tamiel sounded fully outraged and Shane fully did not care. "Expect us?" 

"What, are we supposed-" he started, glaring back when she whipped around to glare at him. 

Rick interrupted. "We cleaned some; we oiled some. You can do the rest. We do this together."

"Yes, yes, but, operational?" 

Jadis' impatience broke the staring match between Shane and Tamiel, and his lips twitched at the way Rick was standing. His brother was about one wrong comment away from losing his shit. Shane should probably step in and help with that, all things considered. 

He sighed, shoved off the van, and answered for Rick. "Shoot a few of 'em and find out. Man said they are to the best of his knowledge."

Jadis didn't even glance at him. "How many?" 

"Sixty-three," Michonne answered. 

Tara pulled a sheet of paper from her back pocket and held it out to Jadis. "We made an inventory." 

Apparently they'd all noticed Rick's rapidly fraying temper, Shane thought. Jadis looked even further down her nose at Rick. 

"No." 

"No, you don't want the inventory?" Tara asked, sounding hesitant. Shane had a feeling that wasn't the case. He was, as usual, right. 

"Not enough." 

"The fuck you talking about?" he demanded. "You wanted a lot of guns. That's a fuckin' lot of guns!" 

Jadis shot him a look and lifted one shoulder in a shrug as she spoke to Rick. "Enough to fight your fight. Us? Nearly twice. Need nearly twice." 

What the hell were these people fighting? Seriously, Shane thought, shoving a hand through his hair. It was staring to grow back in again, and he didn’t know how he felt about that, but it was a problem for another time not right now. What could these people have possibly found to pick a fight with that needed nearly a hundred and twenty guns? Hell, did he even want to know? 

Yeah, he did, cause it would probably come their way if these motherfuckers didn't handle it. 

"We've wasted enough time. Let's just take our guns and go," Rosita snapped, stalking toward the van. 

"No," Jadis objected again, tone still that implacable calm. "Our guns to take. Our deal still on." 

Well, that was something at least. Whatever she was after, she wanted guns badly enough to keep working with them. Shane should have found that reassuring, but he kind of didn't, if he was being honest. 

He half-shrugged when Rick glanced at him. They needed allies. Even these weird bastards. 

"Not all of them. We're keeping ten for ourselves-- to find more." 

Jadis got that pleased look in her eyes as she stepped forward. "Five." 

"Ten," Rick said easily. 

"Six." 

"Ten." 

It was like watching a fucking game of tennis. Shane shifted, crossing his arms and waiting for the stubborn-bastard look and utterly uncompromising tone to work their magic. 

"Nine," Jadis countered again. "And the cat back." 

Shane deliberately did not look at Michonne, so he managed to change the laugh to a strangled cough. Rick shot him a glare over his shoulder, and hooked his thumbs into his gun belt as he glared back at Jadis. 

"Twenty. I keep the cat. We get you the guns. We fight together." He leaned in closer to Jadis and Shane caught the way her eyes flickered slightly. "Say yes." 

"Yes," she said after a pause, head tilting. "More soon, we'll fight." 

Oh yeah, this woman had the hots for Rick. She walked away and Rick turned to Shane, vague surprise in his eyes. Shane shrugged. 

"Shouldn't have asked for the damn cat, huh?" he muttered. 

Rick tried fucking hard not to smile, and Shane flashed him a grin when he didn't succeed.


	31. Lie #31: "It Worked, Didn't It?" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

"You've got to be shitting me," Shane said flatly, staring at Michonne. 

She shook her head and took another bite, shooting a glare Rick's way. "I'm not." 

Shane looked at Rick and didn't say a damn thing. Rick sighed and shifted, looking somehow both guilty and vaguely betrayed. "It wasn't that bad," he muttered. 

"She thought you'd been ripped apart by walkers, man." Shane was proud of how calm he continued to sound, especially since what he really wanted was to scream at Rick to fucking be more careful. He'd lost that man twice and had him come back from the dead. Shane wasn't sure he'd survive number three. "I'd say it was fucking bad. What the damn hell?" 

"Yeah, Dad, I'm not too happy about it either," Carl added. "Sounds like you took some pretty big risks." 

"Oh does it?" Shane pointed his fork at Carl and kept glaring at Rick. "How's that machine gun these days? You hush. I'll yell at your dad for being reckless, thanks, kid." 

"Then I get to yell at you," Rick muttered. 

"What was that?" 

Rick shot him that stubborn bastard look. "I can think of one or two reckless moments for you, 22. Like that first week on the job." 

"If you gotta bring up ancient history, you were a goddamn idiot," Shane said pleasantly. "Samurai, try to keep him alive when I can't, would you?"

Michonne half-laughed and leaned over to add some more peas to Judy's plate. Judith turned an expression of profound distaste Michonne's way and Shane, Rick, and Carl all lost it at once. 

"That's my girl," Shane muttered. "So. We need more guns." 

"Yeah," Rick said with a sigh. "We need more guns. Michonne and I can head back out-" 

"I don't know, man, can you keep from almost dying?" 

"Shut up, 22. Michonne and I can head back out if you want to hold down the fort here for a bit longer. But we gotta hunt up something for Negan too, just in case we can't make our move before he comes back." 

Shane grimaced and gave up on eating. He wasn't really hungry anyway. He shoved his plate away from him and drummed his fingers on the table. "Ok. You and Michonne take off in the morning. I'll grab a few people- Rosita, Tara maybe- and go look for something fucking interesting for the asshole. And keep an eye out for guns, too, cause why the hell not? Aaron stays on top of food, and we regroup in, what? Two days?" 

"I'll go with you, Uncle Shane." 

Shane glanced at Rick, who shrugged slightly. He leaned back in his chair as he turned to Carl and lifted an eyebrow. "You gonna do as you're told and not get bright ideas about jumping into supply trucks?" 

"Am I ever going to live that one down?" Carl complained. "It almost worked!" 

"It almost worked to get you killed, sure," Shane agreed. "And the answer's no. I'm never gonna let your dad forget ripping a man's throat out with his teeth, and you get to be reminded about the supply truck for the rest of your life. Someone has to keep the Grimes' belief in their own indestructibility in check."

"And that's you, is it? The man who jumped down from our perfectly safe spot to lead a herd away on foot because waiting them out was putting us behind schedule?" 

Shane sighed and shot Michonne a wounded look. "It worked, didn't it?" 

"That's hardly the point and you know it-" 

Shane couldn't stop laughing at the look on Lori's face. She'd bought the wild story he was spinning for her about a call he and Rick had answered their first week on the job, complete bullshit that had her looking horrified and Rick trying not to give everything away by cracking up. She was going to kill them when she put Shane's endless laughter and the strained look on Rick's face together and realized they were pulling her fucking leg, but right now? 

Priceless. 

"You liar," she accused finally. "Shane Walsh, you complete liar! Rick! This is all crap, isn't it?" 

Rick met Shane's eyes and lost his own battle with the laughter, nodding as he broke down. "Completely made up, on the spot. I'm so sorry, Lor." 

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her fork at both of them. "How dare you two ass- uh. How dare you?" 

Shane cracked up harder as she cut her eyes to Carl and censored herself. The kid was grinning and laughing along with him and Rick, and Shane felt a little bad for bullshitting his mom in front of him. When he could breathe again he flashed Lori his best get-out-of-trouble grin and waved his beer in her direction. "Sorry, Lor. You just fell for it so well, even when I started on that bull- uh, the b.s. about the drunk and the cat. I couldn't help it." 

"Pathological liar," Lori muttered, but she was smiling too. "You should-" 

She cut off when Shane's phone started squealing, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling with a sigh. Shane fumbled for his pocket amid the fresh laughter from him and Rick, wondering just what Ace was up to tonight to text him during dinner. She knew it was Grimes' Family Dinner night, and she never texted him during that. Hell, even if he texted her first, she would yell at him to go pay attention to his family. 

\-- hey, I know you're at Rick's but you need to see this. 

Two seconds later his phone started squealing again as a picture came in. It was an envelope addressed to her, with an embossed seal on it that made Shane's eyebrows go up. Another picture followed on the heels of the first, this one of a letter laid out on her counter. Clearly the contents of the envelope, Shane scanned it fast enough to catch that it was a commission offer, and a hefty one. 

He let out a whistle and tapped out a quick response, glancing up at Rick's question. "Ace. She got a commission request, and it ain't slim, man." 

"Nice!" Rick said, and Shane ignored the way he and Lori glanced at each other significantly. 

His phone let loose the sound of fucking pigs again, and he pulled it back out of his pocket. 

"Hey, Uncle Shane? What's that sound?" Carl asked. 

Shane shot wide eyes at the kid and then at Rick. "Uh." 

"Yeah, Uncle Shane," Lori echoed with a smug grin. "What's that noise?" 

"Shit," Shane muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. "Guess I'm paying for my story now."

"Hey, Rick. Shane." 

Shane turned at that tone because it meant another issue, and goddamn it, he did not want another one. They had enough of them, thanks. Tobin had a worried expression and a rifle on his shoulder, half-jogging to catch up to them. "What's up? Aren't you supposed to be on the gate?" 

"I am. I've got Aaron there for me while I came to find you two. I'm supposed to have Rosita on with me, but she hasn't shown up yet. Our shift started two hours ago." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "Of course she hasn't. Rick-" 

"But where-" Rick started, gesturing. 

Shane shrugged. "After him?" 

"No, she's not…" Rick trailed off and Shane snorted. 

"Yeah, she is. What do we-" 

Rick shook his head and held up a calming hand. "No, we need to check here first. Ask around. She's been with Tara a lot lately; let's go talk to her." 

Shane sighed and shrugged again. "Whatever you say, man." He turned back to Tobin and lifted an eyebrow at the man's half-confused, half-amused expression. "What?" 

"You two realize you only finished maybe two of those sentences?" Tobin said dryly. "I'm not sure I followed all of that, but I've got to get back on the wall. Good luck finding her." 

Rick muttered a thanks as Tobin jogged off, and Shane hooked a hand over the gun once again on his hip as they went the other way, toward Tara's. "We've known each other too long, brother." 

"Yeah. Time I got a new partner," Rick agreed. "Maybe- hey!" 

Tara closed her door as she stepped out onto her porch, and Shane's eyes narrowed on her. She'd been real shifty here lately, ever since she came back alone from that long supply run she'd taken with Heath, and she looked guilty and unhappy now. Something was going on, something more than just not knowing if Heath had made it and Denise's death while Tara was gone. 

"Hey," she said with false cheer, the single word coming out almost squeakily. 

Shane stopped at the bottom step and frowned at her. "You alright?" 

"Yeah! Yeah, I was just- I was just coming over to see you two, actually." She shoved her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders. "What's up?" 

Shane absolutely did not believe her, and he frowned harder even as Rick answered. Tara had been tight with Glenn and Maggie and Merle, having gotten out of the prison with Glenn and Merle. Shane suddenly wondered if he should have been keeping a closer eye on her, and guilt slammed into him. She'd lost a lot, between Glenn, Merle, and Denise, and that didn't even cover whatever had happened to her on the road and then walking back into this nightmare cold. 

Shit, yeah, she was probably messed up six ways from Sunday, and he should have checked in on her more. Damn it.

"Have you seen Rosita? She didn't show for her guard shift this morning." 

Tara's forehead wrinkled slightly, but she shrugged. "She probably just went out for more." 

"Mm. Yeah," Rick agreed, not at all convinced. He turned to Shane, opened his mouth to speak, and turned back abruptly to Tara. "Wait, why were you coming to find us?" 

Shane hadn't thought it was possible for Tara to look more guilty, but she did. He braced himself, sudden concern sweeping through him at the look on her eyes as she hunched further into her jacket. 

"Well. See. I need to tell you something." 

"Are you fucking kidding me, Tara?" Shane yelled it, staring at her in disbelief. 

She glared back, still on her porch and not backing down. "No." 

"Why didn't you say something sooner? Jesus fucking Christ, you know the situation-" 

"I made a promise!" Her eyes flashed as she gestured, then stabbed a finger in Shane's direction. "I promised to keep them a secret. I thought we'd won already!" 

Shane closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath before he said something truly stupid. Tara knew where they could get more guns, and she hadn't told them. She'd held out on them. She'd held out on him, knowing what they needed, while his girl was- 

He ground words out from his clenched jaw. "We need those guns. Hell, we need them to fight with us." 

"They won't," she said softly. "I know we need them. But they were- Shane, Rick. Their fathers, brothers, sons- Negan slaughtered them all. So these women and children, they ran. They ran and they got away. They've lived through enough." 

Shane shoved both hands through his hair and tried to think beyond the simmering, overflowing rage that filled him. 

She and Heath had run into some shit. They'd gotten separated, as she said, but she'd been saved by a girl. The girl had taken her- eventually- to a community on the coast they called Oceanside. It was made up entirely of women and children, heavily armed, and thriving. 

And depended on secrecy. There was some bullshit, Tara almost got dead more than once, and Cindy, the girl who'd saved her and brought her there, had continued saving her. After swearing Tara to secrecy, Cindy helped her get on the road back home. 

Shane had sympathy for them. Really he did. And for Tara too. That was a shit spot to be in. 

But, see, Slugger was with that bastard. Glenn and Abraham and Denise and Spencer and Olivia and Merle were all dead, and Shane needed guns to make Negan dead too. That was the hard line where his sympathy ended.

"Sure they have," Rick said soothingly. "But they won't stay hidden. I know that; you know that. Negan's expanding. The only way to stop him, is to fight him." 

Shane opened his eyes and nodded, holding onto his temper only because he really did like Tara and she'd told them after all. "The only way to stop him is to fuckin' kill him. Rick?" 

"We need the others. And a plan," Rick said with a shrug. 

"Hilltop first. Then Dixon. He's gonna want in," Shane agreed. "Grab your shit, Tara."

They were taking everyone they possibly could. Shane and Rick headed to Hilltop themselves, to talk to Gregory again and to grab at least the resident ninja, plus Sasha and whoever else they could drum up. They'd started hashing out the bones of a plan, and it had potential- but it needed people. 

"So after we're done here, the others should have everything loaded at home, then we pick up Daryl and try to talk some more sense into Ezekiel on the way," Rick said. 

Shane nodded as Hilltop's gate swung open at their approach. Neither of them broke stride as they entered, heading straight for Barrington House. They were close. Shane could feel it. One more hurdle to overcome, and they could bring the fight to Negan and get his girl back. Shane was ready. 

He pulled up short and blinked when the door opened and Maggie, Jesus, and Daryl came out. 

"Hey," Rick said, surprised. "We were looking for you." 

"What the hell are you doin' here?" Shane demanded. "Aren't you supposed to be working on Ezekiel?" 

Daryl tossed hair from his face and grunted. "Lost cause with Morgan there. We got a problem." 

"Yeah, we got a few of them." Shane felt his optimism from moments before drain away, and he shoved his hand through his hair and gestured. "Go ahead." 

"We don't know where Sasha and Rosita are," Maggie said grimly. "Saviors came." 

"Are you ok?" Shane asked urgently, up two steps to reach for her elbow before she was finished speaking. 

Maggie smiled softly at him and patted his hand. "We're fine. Daryl and I hid in the cellar, because we couldn't get to the escape tunnel fast enough."

"You have-of course you have an escape tunnel," Shane muttered. "Rick, do we have an escape tunnel?" 

"To escape from where?" Rick shot back. "We have a sewer system. That good enough? Let's get back to Sasha and Rosita. We didn't even know Rosita was here. She skipped her guard shift this morning, so I shouldn't be surprised." 

Jesus took over, looking concerned and vaguely guilty. "She and Sasha are going after Negan. They were already planning on it when the Saviors arrived. They must have taken the tunnel and gone on. Sasha got a gun somewhere." 

Shane groaned. "Sasha got a gun from Alexandria. Rick, do we-" 

"They're on their own. We have to win, and for that we need allies. After we get back, we'll go after them," Rick said grimly. 

"Get back? From where?" 

Shane hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and smiled up at Dixon. "Found some creepy ass people. They want guns in exchange for help. We found guns, they want more of 'em. So Tara told us where we can find more. We're gonna go take them, and try to recruit their current owners. You in?" 

"Yeah," Dixon said, no hesitation. "We need the guns." 

"I'm in too," Jesus offered, sounding intrigued. "There's another problem here, though." 

Rick sighed. "Gregory?" 

"No. Well, yes, but only indirectly." Jesus' expression was grim and pissed. "The Saviors took Dr. Carson." 

Shane's eyes whipped to the medical trailer and back to Maggie. "They what?" 

"I'm fine, Shane. Little peanut is fine too. I'm bein' careful," Maggie murmured. "I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about him." 

"Of course you're not," Shane snapped. "I'm worried about you, though. Maggie, you need-"

"I need Negan dead," Maggie said bluntly. "You're workin' on that. So take Daryl and Jesus and go get us guns and allies. Check in when you get back." 

Shane stared at her and she stared back, and he finally shook his head and sighed. "Damn it, Rhee." 

"I'll be fine, Walsh." 

Dixon rode his bike. Shane jammed into the RV with everyone else, closing his eyes and trying to block out the subdued conversations all around. 

They were so close, he thought. So close to being able to do something. To being able to fight. 

But he still had no idea how to get his Slugger back.


	32. Lie #32: "If Mal Fucking Grabbed You Like That Again, You Were Breaking Up For Good." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> references to past abuse  
> references to infertility/miscarriage  
> references to vomiting

You groaned, leaning your forehead against the toilet seat and wishing like hell you knew just how fucking much longer you had to deal with this shit. The nausea got better, right? After a certain amount of time had passed? Or did you have nine months of this bullshit to deal with? 

Negan made a sympathetic noise and rubbed your back. "Sorry, Slugger. That doesn't look like much fun." 

"You think?" you muttered. You pushed upright enough to shoot him a glare, running a hand through your hair and swallowing hard. You grimaced at the taste lingering in your mouth, and Negan held out a glass of water. 

You wanted to refuse it, just to be petty, but you took the thing anyway. "Thanks," you muttered. 

"Did you take your vitamin?" 

You chugged the glass and shot him an annoyed look. "Are you serious?" 

"I told you, princess, you're going to take care of yourself and my baby. So. Did you take your vitamin?" He crouched beside you, eyes amused but firm. He'd shed the jacket- probably when he heard you doing your Exorcist impression in here- and thankfully was not carrying that goddamn bat at the moment, and he looked almost like a concerned dad. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved to your feet. "Yes, I took my vitamin. I've eaten today. I'm getting as much sleep as I can. Happy now?" 

He chuckled as you walked by him and didn't seem at all offended. "I am, actually. Come on, Slugger. Been a busy day. You should take a nap." 

"Just said I slept, didn't I?" you muttered as you collapsed into a chair in the lounge. "I'm going to read. Will that do?" 

"For now," Negan agreed. He leaned over and brushed a kiss to your cheek. "Your new doctor should be here soon." 

You grimaced when your stomach churned again at the thought of Dr. Carson burning in the furnace. "Ew. Thanks?" 

"We'll see if he can do anything about that nausea. Enjoy your book, princess. I'll come get you when he's here." Negan kissed your cheek again and headed for the door, scooping up his jacket and Lucille from where he'd dumped them on one of the couches. "Ladies… play nice while I'm gone." 

You rolled your eyes and closed them with a sigh. You actually were pretty tired, and a nap sounded damn good. 

You just didn't want to tell him that. 

"Wake up, princess." 

"Go the fuck away," you mumbled, curling tighter around the pillow in an attempt to hold onto sleep. "M'sleepin'." 

"That accent of yours is damn adorable." 

You promptly lobbed the pillow at the voice that wouldn't let you sleep, shifting in the chair without opening your eyes. If the pillow shut them up, you'd be fine, and you could get back to dreaming about… 

Negan laughed and ran his fingers down your cheek. "That grumpy expression is adorable too." 

You slapped his hand away from your face and finally gave up and opened your eyes. "I thought you wanted me to sleep." 

"That was three hours ago. Now, I want you to come meet your new doctor," he said with a grin. "So, rise and shine, darlin'." 

You shoved a hand through your hair and tried to wake the fuck up. "Three hours?" 

"Mmhhmm. Maybe you should listen to me next time I say you need a nap." He pulled you to your feet and tucked your hand in the crook of his arm, then snapped his fingers at Frankie. "Frankie, baby, get Ace a bottle of water, would you?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't need water, I need- thanks." 

Frankie handed it to you, and damn if the cold thing didn't look fucking good. You sipped from it absently, and glared harder as Negan laughed again. "Fuck you, Negan." 

"You did, sweetheart. And if I thought you meant that, I'd say let's do it again," he whispered in your ear. 

You flinched away from him and he laughed, strolling toward the door with you on his arm. He'd fucking won this round, you knew, and you hated it. But you shut up and drank your water, strolling along at Negan's side and only half-listening to him rambling about searching for your brother and finding Sherry and saying hello to Saviors in the halls. 

Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was how hard you'd flashed back to Will and Mal down there at the furnace. Maybe it was everything catching up to you finally, but you had exactly fucking zero shits left to give, and you'd decided Tanya and Frankie were right. You were untouchable, for the next nine months or so. Negan was too goddamn delighted about this baby. 

You just needed to figure out what you were going to do about it. Be bitchy and get away with it? That was what you wanted to do. Just fucking let him know what you really thought about anything and everything, and hope you got the fuck out of here before your get out of jail free card expired. 

But that wasn't the best bet. If you played it right- if you played him right- you could get him to a point of indulging in your every whim if you wanted. You'd learn more that way. You could wheedle information and favors out of him and everyone else, if you batted your eyes and pressed a hand to your stomach enough. The trick would be how to make it believable. How to make Negan himself believe that you'd come over to him, to wanting him and being his princess. 

Hormones would work in your favor there, you decided. A teary-eyed speech about being abandoned by your brother and feeling alone would probably go a long way. Negan wanted to believe he was a fucking hero, saving people from a horrible life out there among the dead and bringing them somewhere good- his 'Sanctuary'. He'd probably respond to some well-placed damsel in distress moments. 

On the other hand, he liked you and Sherry because you didn't do that shit, and called him on his asshole behavior. So there'd have to be a balance, or he'd get suspicious. He was pretty fucking good at manipulating people himself, so you'd have to be better. You'd have to plan for everything, every reaction he could have, every suspicion that might cross his mind. 

And then, when your moment came, you could fucking put him out of your misery once and for all. By then, you'd be in a good place to not die yourself when you did. Hell, you'd figure out how to make it look like an accident. 

It was going to take a long time, and you'd have to be very, very careful. You'd probably have to fuck him again. You wondered if you could bring yourself to do that. 

You knew if it was what you had to do to make him pay, you could. After all, you had nothing left at this point. No brothers to protect, no Shane to try to make it back to. You had this mission and the baby. And Negan wouldn't do anything to hurt the baby. 

Negan smiled down at you as he held the door open, and you felt your lips curve into your bartender's smile back. "Feelin' better, princess?" he asked. 

"Yeah. I needed the nap. And the water," you said with a shrug and a roll of your eyes. "Also, these hormones are killing me. Sorry I threw a pillow at you." 

Negan chuckled as you held up a hand to block out the sun. "I guess I'm lucky you didn't take a swing at me, Slugger." 

"Damn straight," you said automatically, distracted by the trucks coming in and what you could have sworn was a flash of light in the window of one of the buildings further out. You squinted at it, but you didn't see it again, and Negan tugged you gently down the stairs. 

Eugene nodded at you, face expressionless. "Hello, Ace." 

Your lip curled in a sneer before you could stop yourself, and you said nothing. Instead, you focused on the wide eyes of Dr. Harlan Carson as he was pulled from the bed of the truck. 

"Doctor! It is a pleasure to have you here. Now, I am sure you have heard the news about your brother, and I am sure you are less than delighted about it, but I have to tell you- there was nothing I could do," Negan said, tone bright and overly friendly as he wrapped an arm around Harlan's shoulders. "And we are so very glad you've joined us. See, I have some good news! My lovely wife right here, Ace?" 

You smiled tightly as Dr. Carson's eyes flickered between you and Negan. Negan let go of him in order to slide his hand down your back, leaning over to kiss your cheek. 

"She's carryin' my baby! And she's in need of some specialized services. Services which I hear you have to offer!" 

Dr. Carson's look this time was concerned, and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. He snapped it closed and shook his head, finally turning back to Negan. "Congratulations," he muttered instead. 

"Thank you!" Negan's voice was delighted and his smile was huge. "We appreciate that, we really do. Now, if you don't mind getting to work right away, my princess here has been sick as a dog for awhile, and I would like you to give her a thorough looking over, make sure everything's just fine with my baby in there and with Slugger. Dwight will take you on down to the infirmary. Dwighty-boy!" 

You maintained your politely disinterested smile as Dwight materialized out of the crowd, scanning the fence to see if Merle was still there. As far as you could tell, he wasn't, and you thanked whatever fucking god was out there for small favors. 

"Yeah, boss?" 

"Take Slugger and the doctor on down. Make sure he's got everything he needs. I've gotta talk to my chief engineer here about some things. Eugene, come with me. Princess, I'll see you later. Follow the doctor's orders now." He titled your face up to his with fingers under your chin, brushing a kiss to your lips while you stood immobile. 

Fucking hell, maybe you wouldn't be able to go through with your half-formed plans after all. All you wanted to do was see if you could break his nose with one punch. 

He winked like he knew exactly what you were thinking, turned you toward the door, and gave you a nudge. 

Like a good little slave, you went. 

It wasn't much of an exam, but Dr. Carson did one. Most of it was conducted in near-silence, with Dr. Carson giving you instructions in a soft voice. Finally he sighed and sat down beside the exam table. 

"Aside from confirming that you're pregnant, there's not much I can tell you without the doppler," he started. 

"I'm sorry about your brother," you interrupted. You didn't know why you said it, because you fucking weren't. His brother had been an asshole who had let Merle die, and you hated him. But you were sorry because it was this Dr. Carson's brother, and you liked him. He'd given Maggie and Glenn ultrasound photos of their baby, and had offered her anything she needed during her pregnancy. He was a good man, and you were sorry for his loss. 

"Thank you." Dr. Carson smiled slightly. "And I'm sorry for your losses. All of them. I- well, I've heard what happened." 

You shrugged, trying not to think about any of them as you swallowed past the lump in your throat. "Merle's dead. But Darrie's out. So. I'm sorry, I- I don't know what you said to me, a minute ago." 

"That's fine," Dr. Carson murmured. "I said aside from being able to tell you, again, that you are pregnant, I can't do much. I'd need a sonogram or the doppler for anything else, and-" he hesitated and you frowned at him as he glanced toward the door and leaned in, eyes intense. 

Dwight had ducked out for your exam when Harlan had stared at him flatly. He'd closed the door behind him, but you knew as well as anyone that secrets were a bad idea. Dr. Carson's brother had just been killed. What could he possibly want to pass on to you that was worth any kind of risk right now? 

"I'm not willing to say anything to Negan about those, because he'll have them brought from Hilltop, and Maggie needs them," Dr. Carson whispered. 

You blinked at him. "What?" 

He nodded. "She's ok now, but she needs to be able to keep an eye on the baby. After that scare the night- well, the bad night. After that, she needs to take it easy and stick close to medicine. And me, if I can get out of here again." 

"Wait. Wait," you whispered, shoving one hand through your hair and grabbing wildly for his with the other. "Maggie's- Maggie's alive? The baby- Maggie's alive?" 

Dr. Carson's eyes went wide. "You didn't know?" 

"No. No." You felt a tear slide down your cheek but you ignored it. "Negan thinks she's dead, and buried in Alexandria. I saw- I saw the graves myself." 

"She's alive. She and Sasha and Enid have been staying in the Hilltop," he whispered. "Jesus has been watching out for them. I saw your brother too, briefly. He's ok." 

You pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, trying to process all of that. You gave up about two seconds later, because Maggie was alive and that was a fucking miracle. 

"You can't say anything. Don't say a word about her, or any of them. Especially not Maggie or Darrie," you hissed, glaring at him hard and grabbing his arm in a death grip, hard enough to bruise and you knew it. "If you do, I'll kill you myself. Negan won't get a chance to. You understand?" 

Dr. Carson patted your hand on his arm and smiled. "I won't. I promise. So, you seem ok. Negan said nausea?" 

You tried to go with the subject change, and he was probably right. Dwight would stick his head back inside any minute, and moments of understand or not, Dwight was Negan. 

Just like you were. 

"Yes. But you should know, I'm not supposed to be able to have kids," you said slowly.

Dwight knocked at the door a moment later, and you gestured impatiently for Dr. Carson to let him in. What you had to talk about now wasn't exactly secret information, and there was no need to arouse suspicions with doors being closed longer than necessary. 

You were playing the long game, after all. All of you were. 

Dwight gave you an escort back upstairs, despite your repeated reassurances that you could, in fact, make your way there yourself. You were honestly kind of annoyed by it. You'd been wandering this place alone for awhile; it wasn't like you'd get lost on the way back. And you were barely even pregnant, so you weren't going to go into labor at the drop of a hat. 

Dr. Carson had seemed concerned when you told him what you'd been told after your miscarriage, and about how irregular your cycle was. You couldn't even say for sure when the last one had happened. It might have been all the way when the apocalypse started; you genuinely weren't sure. He'd muttered about high-risk pregnancies and said he'd keep a close eye on you, but you seemed largely healthy and he wasn't too concerned. 

You'd agreed to come straight down if you had any pain, or bleeding, or anything out of the ordinary. 

Dwight opened the door to the back stairs and waited for you to start up, and you narrowed your eyes over your shoulder as you did. "Taking the scenic route for a reason?" you muttered. 

Two flights up, he grabbed your arm and stopped you, looking up and then down to make sure you were alone. You eyed him even harder. 

"Yeah. Look, I don't know exactly what's going on with you and Eugene and the doctor down there, but you covered my back with Negan over Sherry. I'll cover yours," he said in a low voice. "Just let me in on whatever the plan is. I know you're trying to get out of here." 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you told him, in complete honesty. "There's nothing going on with me or anybody else. And I hated the doctor as much as you did. Maybe more. He killed my brother." 

"No, he didn't." 

You waved that away with a roll of your eyes. "Letting him die by not treating him is the same thing. Point is, I don't know what you're talking about and I don't want to know. I just want to go back upstairs, eat something that I maybe won't puke up, and go back to sleep." 

Dwight gave you a look like he didn't believe a damn word you were saying, but he was silent the rest of the walk up. 

"Come on, Slugger, I'm bored!" 

You rolled your eyes as you tried to get the key in your lock without dropping any of the grocery bags in your arms, then realized he couldn't see that. "And that's my problem, how?" you asked into the phone jammed between your ear and your shoulder. 

"I haven't heard from you in weeks. Tell me some stories." 

You groaned and finally got the key in the damn lock. "Not you too. I'm busy, goddamn it." 

Shane's tone was half-amused and half-concerned, and you winced as you kicked the door shut with your foot and realized how bitchy that had sounded. "Got other people you haven't been keeping up with?" 

"My brother crawled up my ass about how I never see them unless I'm fishing Merle from the drunk tank. Which, by the way, I did today. Got a call less than an hour after I got home last night." 

"Shit," Shane said with a low whistle. "No wonder you're bitchy." 

"Fuck you, Dickhead." 

He laughed and you felt your lips curve up in a smile despite the exhaustion and yes, ok fine, bitchiness you were feeling. "Well, sweetheart, that depends. You on or off with that bastard?" 

"Malcolm and I are together right now," you said dryly. You poked at the bruise on your arm- the one half the PD had felt the need to comment on- and wondered if that would still be the case after tomorrow. If Mal fucking grabbed you like that again, you were breaking up with him for good. You were getting tired of the bullshit. 

"Yeah, should have known," Shane muttered. "Guess that means I'll have to pass on your offer, though." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you demanded, one hand on your hip as you glared at nothing and pretended it was Shane. 

"Don't get your back up, Slugger. I'm just sayin', you tend to disappear for longer stretches when you're with him." 

Since that was, in fact, why you hadn't talked to Shane in weeks and your brothers in months, you couldn't really argue. "Oh." 

"Yeah, oh," Shane teased. "Come on. Let's get together. Come up with some kinda bullshit plan that'll get me in trouble, girl." 

You snorted, but glanced at the calendar on your wall and started to smile. "Well…" 

"That tone sounds promising." 

Your three hour nap fucked you over for sleeping that night, or maybe it was the information that Maggie was actually alive, and doing fine over in Hilltop. She and the baby were both ok, and your brother was there with her and safe. 

You were sketching by moonlight on the roof, drawing Glenn and Maggie and what you remembered of their first meeting on the farm. Maggie on a horse, all urgent and taking out a walker with a baseball bat- 

You froze and gulped. Wow, that was some bizarre foreshadowing there. 

You shoved that thought back out of your mind and got your pencil moving again. You'd been too distracted with worry about Shane and Rick and Carl, and the note Shane had left for you, to really pay attention to them at the time, but you remembered Glenn's awed voice and wide-eyed expression when she'd left. 

He'd been head over heels almost instantly, you thought fondly. You missed him so much. 

"Ace." 

D's voice snapped you from the memory, and you glared at him as your pencil stopped moving. "What?" 

He glanced around, shifty as hell, before stepping in close with the most intense expression you'd ever seen. "I've got an idea, but it's not a good one." 

You blinked at him, flipped your sketchbook closed, and shoved it into your bag. Pencil tapping furiously against your palm, you rose. "What?"


	33. Lie #33: "He Would Ask Her More Questions Later" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> mild smuttiness

Shane couldn't fucking believe that had worked. It was their goddamn plan, sure- his and Rick's- but still. He couldn't believe it had worked. 

It almost hadn't, and that was the only reason Shane knew they'd actually pulled it off. 

They'd taken the explosives with them. It had earned them one hell of a look from Michonne, at first, but after they explained it all, she'd been on board. They'd figured out how to get everyone from Oceanside in one place safely, cover them, and give Tara a chance to work some magic and make the whole thing unnecessary. 

All it had taken was some explosives in the woods; a sniper; Shane, Daryl, and Rick filtering through the trees to be in position to block the arsenal Tara almost dying a couple times; and one impassioned speech from Rick. Add in the walker herd and Rick's orders to protect everyone from the village and eliminate the threat, and they'd gotten all but the leader of the place on their side. 

Tara's friend Cindy had knocked the old woman out stone cold right before the herd attacked, and that was that. Oceanside's badass women had helped put down the walkers, and Shane had started to understand a little more about why Tara tried so hard to keep them out of it. These women were tough. 

Beatrice and Kathy, in particular, reminded him of his Slugger. Tough, competent, and with that air that only those who'd survived some shit could get. 

He wished they'd agreed to help fight, but they hadn't been willing to go that far. Instead, Rick and the others had left with every single gun in their truly impressive arsenal. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing. At least now they'd have Jadis and her weirdos on their team. 

Shane would much rather have had the women from Oceanside. 

"Hey." 

He opened his eyes as Tara dropped down beside him. "Hey. Listen-" 

"I should have told you right away," she blurted. She picked at her sleeves, staring down at her feet instead of looking at him. "I wanted to protect them, and I'd made a promise. But- Negan has Ace. Merle and Glenn and Abraham are all dead. I- I should have told you." 

Shane shook his head and tossed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. "I mean, I'm not gonna argue that. But thing is, you did promise. Ain't like I've never gotten myself in a fucked up situation before and had to figure out my way out. I'm sorry I yelled at you." 

"It's cool. I'd have yelled at you too." Tara went silent as Shane half-laughed, then she sighed. "I miss Merle. And Glenn. All of them, but Glenn and Merle- they're why I'm here. All they wanted was to find everyone else again. Glenn was so fixed on Maggie, and Merle talked a lot about his little sister and brother. I can't believe they're gone." 

"Yeah. Merle Dixon was a pain in the goddamn ass, but… turns out under all that, he was also a damn good man," Shane agreed softly. "And fuck knows, Glenn was one of the best. Abraham too." 

"I want to kill Dwight." 

Shane shot her a surprised look. "Gonna have to get in line there, honey. Got a few people want that asshole dead. Me included. Dixon too. Gonna be hard to get there first." 

"Yeah. I want him dead for what he did to Denise. Him and Negan." Tara's eyes were hard as she looked at him, and then her whole expression softened. "I'm a wreck with her gone. I can't even imagine what it's like for you right now. I should have told you." 

Shane shifted and tried to find a response to that, but she kissed his cheek and disappeared before he could. 

"Well, last call makes liars out of all of us," Ace said with a shrug. "And hell, I think maybe after tonight, we might just be friends." 

He laughed at that one and she stepped closer, biting her lip and studying him like she wasn't quite sure what to do now that she'd made this decision. He waited for her to figure it out; for her to make the first move. If she didn't, they'd part as cheerful friends, cause he wasn't down for any grey areas here. 

When her eyes cleared and she set a hand to his chest, he pulled her closer and almost muttered a 'thank god'. Then her lips were soft on his, not hesitant- she'd made up her mind and Shane had a feeling once she did that she could do just about anything she wanted to- but just soft. 

She tasted vaguely like honey. Chapstick, he figured, or maybe that was just her. 

Ace might have started it, but Shane sure kicked it up to steamy right away. She kissed him and he hauled her closer by her elbows, until her body pressed against his and he had a fist knotted in her black tee against her back. He gave into what he suddenly realized he'd wanted since she laughed in the parking lot and tangled his other hand in her blue hair, at the base of her neck, and used his grip to tip her head back so he could kiss her better. 

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, her tongue sweeping his, and Shane could have tossed her into the back of his Jeep right then and there. 

"My place is like ten minutes away. Seven if I drive fast," she whispered against his lips. 

Shane grunted. "Drive fast. I'm a cop. You won't get a ticket." 

She burst into laughter and he found himself laughing with her. The urgency faded as she turned to her car, but tension and need crackled in the air between them until Shane wondered how the fuck it wasn't a visible thing, painted on the Atlanta skyline. "I'll follow you," he offered. "Don't wanna leave my Jeep here. Got my off-duty piece in it." 

"Sure. Can you keep up?" 

He shot her a look over his shoulder and she had a wicked gleam in her eyes. He scoffed and changed direction, grabbing the apron she still had tied around her hips and tugging her to him. He held her eyes, that damn blue as bright as her hair, and slowly, slowly lowered his mouth to right over hers. When her lips parted in anticipation, he smiled. 

"Oh, I can keep up. Come on." He released her abruptly and went for his Jeep. 

"God, you're a such dickhead!" she yelled after him, but he heard the laugh in her voice.

They made it in five minutes, not seven. Shane was counting. 

He couldn’t have told anyone what her building looked like, cause he was too fucking busy with his hands and his mouth on her, or how many flights of stairs they staggered up together. She kept laughing every time they tripped, and Shane couldn't keep his hands out of her hair. 

Somehow, they made it inside. 

He noticed art on the walls, but only in passing. Only enough to register that he was pushing her up against a chalkboard, and to wonder if she was gonna be mad about the way he was smearing whatever was on it. She shivered under his hands as his tugged her shirt free from her tight black pants and skimmed his fingers up her sides, and he stopped thinking about the art and thought about her instead. 

It was pretty goddamn easy to do, since she'd taken over all of his senses with that first kiss and she hadn't stopped yet. 

She made that soft sound again and he was the one who shivered. When she slipped her hands up under his shirt and kept going, tugging it insistently up and over his head, he half-laughed. Barely taking his lips from hers, he tossed it away and resisted the urge to flex as her hands cruised down his arms. "In a hurry there, sweetheart?" 

"Well, there was some big talk earlier, about doing it right," she said with a wicked grin. "Just figured you'd want to get on with backing up that claim." 

"Oh, I'll back it up," he muttered, pulling her up off the wall to get her own shirt out of the way. He ran a finger along the soft strappy thing she wore under it, delighted by the contrast of lace and warm skin. She trembled again, head tilting back and eyes falling half-closed, and he wondered how long it'd been since she'd cut loose and really enjoyed herself. Woman was primed to fall apart on him already, and he'd barely gotten started. 

He spun her around abruptly and pulled the lacy thing off, trailing his fingers down her sides. She leaned back against him, and he ran his tongue up her neck and to her racing pulse as he continued to explore. He got distracted be the belly button ring, circling the stone for awhile as he pondered what it'd feel like under his tongue, and wondered if she had anything else pierced he should know about. He was betting no, but now seemed like as good a time as any to find out, so he skimmed a line from her navel up her sternum, and cupped her breasts in his hands as he bit down on her neck. 

She arched into his touch, and he'd been right about her not having anything else pierced- at least so far, though he planned on conducting a very thorough search to make sure. She murmured his name as he rolled her nipples between his fingers, and he fucking liked that breathless hitch to her voice. Shit, he liked it a lot. 

He let her go, pushing her forward into the wall so she let out a tiny gasp. He sure as shit wasn't done touching her, though, and he trailed his fingers down her spin as he gathered her hair in his other hand and nipped at the nape of her neck. 

When he encountered the scar, he felt her go from shivering and breathless to wary. "What happened there? That's a pretty serious one, girl." 

She shrugged, turning in his arms to thread her fingers in his hair. "Childhood accident. No big deal." 

Something told him it was, in fact, a fairly big deal, and he frowned down at her silhouette in the dark. He started to ask again, but she tugged on his hair and pressed up against him insistently. 

"You gonna get those hands back on me or what?" she asked archly, lips busy on his shoulder. She bit lightly at him when he laughed. 

"Oh, I think I can handle that. Come on, Slugger. You were talking rather desperately about a shower earlier."

He would ask her more questions later, he decided. First, he'd do as he promised, and rock her goddamn world. 

Shane slipped into the front seat when Michonne vacated it and sighed. "Got guns." 

"Yep," Rick agreed slowly. "Now we need a plan." 

"Yeah. Shit. Feels like goddamn Atlanta, doesn't it? You and me in an overcrowded RV, and Dixon out there on a bike." He shook his head. "We're a long ass way from home, brother." 

"That we are," Rick agreed. "Making a new one, though. Trying, at least." 

"We'd almost succeeded. Gonna need some more of those Rick fuckin' Grimes miracles to get back to it." 

Rick glanced over at him. "I've never understood your faith in me. I got us in this mess." 

"Shut up. We all got us in this mess. How we gonna get out of it? Got the guns, so we've got those weird garbage fucks. But what do we do next? Whatever it is, we gotta get Ace out of there safely," he insisted. It was dark outside, and they were getting close to Alexandria, and now he was ready to make that happen. He missed his girl, damn it. 

Carl had said her hair was blue again. 

Rick sighed. "That's the priority, obviously. Thinking we need to lay a trap for him. Get him to come out again, and we send someone in after her while he's gone. Jesus and Daryl have been there. They can tell us the layout." 

"I'm going," Shane said immediately. 

"You'd make better bait." 

Shane looked at him wordlessly. Rick sighed after a moment. 

"Yeah, fine. You're going. You, Jesus, Daryl. We'll have to figure out how to lure him out, though, with as many of his people as we can get. To make it easier for you. Luckily," Rick grunted as the headlights swept the gate, "We're home. We'll make a plan first thing in the morning, then go see Jadis." 

Shane grunted, then leaned forward and squinted at the person opening the gate. "That Rosita?" 

Shane was glad she was safe. Really, he was. 

He was also pissed as fucking hell. Didn't people get that running off half-cocked was what had landed them in this mess in the first place? He and Daryl had taken off after Ace and Merle, Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita had come after them, and everyone had gone in six different directions without a plan only to end up in Negan's line up. They had to plan, they had to act together- 

And they had to act fuckin' soon. 

Enid and Jesus got to her before Shane and Rick could, Enid asking breathlessly if she was ok. Rosita's face was blanker than usual, and Shane felt something cold starting to creep up his spine. 

"Where's Sasha?" Jesus asked. 

Rosita looked at Rick and her voice was as flat as her expression. "There's someone here." 

The whole crowd didn't go, which was probably a good thing. Everyone who did was bad enough, considering who was in the cell when Rosita opened it. 

Shane stared for a full five seconds before shoving a hand through his hair and catching Daryl when he started pushing people aside to get in there. "Dixon, wait. Dixon, man, I get it, but wait," he hissed in Daryl's ear. 

Dwight, wearing Daryl's fucking vest, stood looking nervous as hell in the cell. Rick, Michonne, and Tara got in on keeping Daryl from killing the man with his bare hands, and Shane was fucking grateful. He didn't really wanna have to get into another fight with Ace's brother, especially since he mostly agreed with Dixon on this. Dwight needed killing- after they figured out what the hell he was doing here.

"He says he wants to help us," Rosita declared like she'd read his mind. 

Shane scoffed and glared from her to Dwight. "That so?" 

"Fuckin' doubt it," Daryl muttered. 

Rick gave them both a look and turned to Dwight. "That true? You want to help?" 

"I do," Dwight said firmly. 

Rick nodded, eyes never leaving Dwight's. Shane suddenly wasn't sure who needed watching the most right now, Dwight, Daryl, or Rick, because Dixon practically vibrated with rage beside him and Rick had that look, the one he'd gotten that night when he'd ripped Joe's throat out with his teeth, and Dwight seemed weirdly calm and determined. Shane stayed by Daryl's side, shoulders almost touching, as Rick took a step closer and squared off with Dwight. 

"Okay," Rick said finally. He pulled the Python and cocked it in a smooth, practiced move. "Get on your knees." 

To his credit, Dwight dropped to his knees without any hesitation. He didn't argue; didn't say anything stupid. His eyes traveled to Daryl and Shane, and Shane's hands clenched into fists, thinking about how Dixon still had trouble meeting anyone's eyes for more than a few seconds and what little Daryl had told him back in the Kingdom about his time in the cell. 

This motherfucker needed to die, for sure. But first, they'd ring every drop of information they could from him. Shane was happy to conduct the questioning himself. 

"Look at me," Rick snarled. "Why?" 

"Cause I want it stopped," Dwight said. "I want Negan dead." 

"So why don't you kill him?" Shane muttered. 

Dwight scoffed. "It can't just be me. They're all Negan." 

Shane didn't try to stop Tara when she shoved by him, but he probably should have. She leaned in close, and Rick shifted the Python to keep her out of the line of fire. 

"That girl you murdered? She had a name. Her name was Denise and she was a doctor. She helped people!" 

Shane grabbed for Daryl when Dwight's face twisted, knowing whatever the man said, it wasn't going to be pretty. 

He still wasn't fast enough. 

"I wasn't aiming for her," Dwight said softly. 

Daryl evaded Shane's hands, shoved Tara aside, and had Dwight up against the wall with a knife millimetres from his eye. Shane sighed and stopped Rick when he twitched forward, shaking his head. This was Dixon and Tara's decision, Shane had realized. The only reason to keep him alive was for information on Slugger, and he trusted Dixon to know if they really needed that. 

"Do it. Do it," Tara snarled. 

Dwight was breathing heavily through the hand Daryl had locked on his throat, and Shane shifted a little closer when Daryl didn't twitch or speak. Maybe he'd need reminding about Dwight's potential usefulness after all. 

"You want to end it this way, you go ahead," Dwight whispered. "I'm sorry. I am. I know you want to." 

"He could just be here to see if you were here," Rick said, sounding like he wasn't all that against killing the bastard after all. 

Michonne made a noise of agreement. "We can't trust him." 

Well of course we can't fucking trust him, Shane thought irritably. But what we can do is get some goddamn information out of him. 

"He owned me." Dwight delivered it simply, honestly. A statement of fact and not an excuse. "But not anymore. I-" 

"Darrie."


	34. Lie #34: "We're Barely Allies." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

You stared at Dwight in total confusion. "I'm sorry, you think we can what now?" 

"I've been here for years, Ace. I've figured out where the bind spots are. Thing is, Eugene figured them out in about two seconds, and he's working to fix them. So I can get you out, but it has to be fast. Tonight." 

"Why tonight?" 

He shifted impatiently, and you realized he had Darrie's crossbow on his back. "Because Negan's busy with Frankie, Eugene's busy lookin' for more walkers to get on the fence, and you're up here and not in the wives' quarters. I can't go in there and bring you out, or it'll ruin everything. Plus, Negan's got some shit planned for tomorrow that your people need to know about. I was going to go alone, but when I realized you were up here…" He trailed off, shooting you an impatient look when you didn't move. "If you're comin', we gotta go." 

Were you going? For an agonizing moment, you weren't sure. You wanted to be free of here so goddamn badly, but- 

It was easier to be trapped here than to face the idea of seeing Rick or Carl or Maggie again. And Darrie and Dickhead… you almost wanted to run away like Sherry had. 

You weren't dumb enough to think you'd get very far, though. 

You slung your art bag over your shoulder and stuck the pencil behind your ear. "Got a weapon for me?" 

Dwight almost smiled. "Not till we're out of here. Ok. Listen good."

There was a moment where you thought you weren't going to make it. You had to pass a couple of Saviors to get to the next blind spot, and it lead out into one of the smaller courtyards. Honestly, even with your generally free reign of the place you had no business being here, so you were trying to figure out how the fuck to do it- especially since fucking David was there, and he gave you the goddamn creeps- when their radio crackled. 

"Red! Red! To the front! Now, damn it!" 

You pulled back into the stairwell as David and Amir glanced at each other and promptly took off. The red call was interesting, but you'd committed to leaving at this point and now all you could think about was getting the hell out of dodge. You waited until you were sure they were gone, squared your shoulders, and walked like you knew exactly what you were doing and you were supposed to be doing it right then and there. 

You made it out without seeing another soul. You did hear the gunshots, and twisted around to eye the place in confusion. Walkers? Had to be walkers. Someone was gonna be in deep shit for not securing the gate. 

Dwight materialized out of nowhere at your elbow. "You made it." 

"Seems like," you agreed, hitching your art bag up on your shoulder. "Gun, please. Knife if you've got one." 

"Shouldn't that be the other way around? Knife, and gun if I've got one?" 

You scoffed as you took the handgun he gave you. "Once upon a time, sure. I hate guns." 

A quick check of the magazine and the chamber showed everything in order. You rammed the magazine back in, racked one, and held it loose and ready at your side. Dwight handed you a small knife as well, and you shoved it into your back pocket and made sure you had easy access. 

"Sure seem comfortable with them for someone who hates guns," he commented as you started walking. 

You tracked the darkness for walkers, because travelling on foot at night was a damn fool idea, but it was the best one you'd had yet. "What the hell do you care?" 

"Just thought I'd make some conversation. Gonna be a long walk." 

You snorted and shoved a hand through your hair. "Shit, D. We're not friends. We're barely allies." 

"Could be friends." Dwight held up a hand for silence as you were preparing a scathing retort to that one and you shifted to a two handed grip and covered his back while he peered into the darkness. 

You heard the footsteps- running ones- the jingle of gear, the ragged breathing. You and Dwight exchanged a look, and you nodded when he gestured forward, question in his eyes. That was something interesting. Something you needed to know about. 

You didn't know who was more surprised, you or Rosita. Either way, once the initial jolt wore off, you'd launched right into serious questioning about what the hell she was doing here, running away from the Sanctuary alone and on foot. 

Turns out she and Sasha had a big plan to snipe the shit out of Negan, and they hadn't been able to because you'd been in the line of fire when Dr. Carson had been brought in. When Eugene called for a building search, the two of them had to move until nightfall, when they'd decided to go in. 

Eugene had a chance to escape with them, to get away clean, and he'd chosen to stay. You were disgusted, but hardly surprised. Fucking coward was designed for someone like Negan. 

Then Sasha had locked Rosita out and gone in to try to get to Negan on her own, and suddenly the red code and the shooting made a hell of a lot more sense. Neither Rosita nor Dwight would let you go back and try to help her. 

"You'll just get yourself back in there and nothing will change. You being there was the only thing holding Rick and Shane back," Rosita hissed. "Come one, Ace. You have to come." 

You'd tried to argue anyway, but she was right. 

Tobin opened the gate for you, and you bit your lip and tried not to cry when he beamed and muttered a 'welcome home'. You were home, or the closest thing you had to it. And it already hurt. 

Inside, Rosita turned a glare on Dwight. "He goes in the cell." 

"Rosita-" you protested. "He wants to help. We should go straight to Rick." 

"Rick's not here," she muttered. "Tobin told me. He goes in the cell until Rick gets back." 

"It's ok," Dwight said softly. "I wouldn't trust me either." 

You sighed, but Rosita had already taken his gun and you had Darrie's crossbow slung across your shoulder. "Fine. I'll go too." 

"No. You go upstairs. Get a shower or something," Rosita insisted. "You look like hell, and the blood doesn't help. Shane will shit a brick if he sees you like that first thing." 

You wanted to protest that as well, but she was right. There'd been a small walker problem, and it had gotten a little messy- for you at least; the other two were fine- and you had a liberal coating of blood down your neck and the front of your shirt. 

It was going to be bad enough when they got here; you didn't need the ghoulish decorations to remind them you were the enemy now.

You braided your hair as you headed back down toward the cell, nausea that wasn't related to the demonspawn tying your stomach in knots and making your hands shake as you went. 

They were going to hate you. Rosita probably already hated you, which is why she had you drop all your weapons in the armory as well as D's. You couldn't even fault her there. You'd been with Negan for a long time, and now- 

God, Dickhead was going to hate you. So would Darrie. Rick would look at you with that blank disappointment, Carl wouldn't meet your eyes, Michonne would watch you warily and never speak a word, Maggie- if you ever saw her again- would and should slap you silly. Carol would probably never drop the freaky act around you again. 

And you couldn't even blame them. 

"We can't trust him," Michonne's voice came from the cell. 

Oh, shit, they were here. You sped up, having hoped you'd be there when they arrived, to at least try to convince them you were both on the up and up. Darrie would want to kill Dwight on sight, and he really did have information they needed, and a goddamn plan. 

Dwight's voice came softly as you rounded the corner and saw the group gathered in the door of the cell. "He owned me. But not anymore. I-" 

"Darrie." 

Everything stopped. Daryl's head whipped around at the sound of your voice, and you tried so goddamn hard not to see Shane. If you didn't see him, you wouldn't have to see the disgust and betrayal in his eyes. Not yet; not for another minute. Just one more minute, you thought desperately as you slipped past Tara and Carl and Michonne and into the cell. 

Rosita hadn't warned them, that much was clear from the look on Daryl's face. 

You swallowed hard and shrugged slightly. "Hey." 

"Slugger-"

You winced at the nickname, biting down hard on your tongue as Shane stepped toward you, eyes huge. You sidestepped him, ducking around Michonne to head over to Darrie. He still held the knife rock-steady on Dwight, but his eyes were fixed on you now. Setting your hand on his arm, you tried to find the right words to keep him from killing the man that you wanted to kill for what he'd done to your brother. "Darrie. He was doing it for someone else. She got away. She's the one who got you out." 

Daryl's eyes flickered, and you caught the low murmur behind you in the cell, but you kept your attention on your brother. He'd gone back to staring Dwight down, and you were grateful D wasn't a fucking idiot and was keeping his mouth shut right now. 

"He got me out, too. Come on, Darrie," you whispered. "I hate his fucking guts too, but-" 

"Then do it! Daryl, do it!" Tara snapped. "You knew her!" 

You almost shot her a look, because what the fuck was that all about, and you were trying to keep a man alive long enough to give them Negan on a goddamn platter here, but you were avoiding looking around the room which meant avoiding looking at Tara. 

"There's another choice," D said softly. "Negan trusts me. We work together, we can stop him." 

Daryl's hand started to shake, and for a minute you thought he'd do it. Then his eyes flashed to yours, held them, and he dropped the knife and dropped Dwight. "Only alive 'cause ya got my sister with ya. Talk fuckin' fast," he snarled at D. 

"They have Sasha. If she's even alive," Rosita said in a dead voice. 

"Why didn't you say something?" Jesus asked, and you hadn't even known he was in the room. "He could be our only chance to get her back." 

"You didn't tell them?" You gave up on not looking at the cell to shoot Rosita a glare, because honestly. "What the hell!" 

"I don't trust him," Rosita snapped. She jerked her chin in Daryl's direction. "I trust Daryl."

You shoved a hand through your hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "I told you-" 

"I don't trust you either!" 

You froze, swallowing hard. That was fair. She shouldn't trust you. How the hell could she, after- 

"Damn it, Rosita, it's Ace! Why wouldn't you-" 

You shook your head and interrupted Shane. "No, I get it. I don't blame her. D, tell them what you told me earlier. They need all the time they can get to prepare." 

Something wasn't adding up here, you thought as you studied the cell wall near Rick's head and the floor at your feet. Rosita was suspicious of you, and that made sense. But the others- Shane was jumping to your defense, Darrie was hovering at your side and wrapped his arm around your shoulders even as you thought, Carl had a big-ass smile he wasn't doing a good job of hiding. You leaned in against your brother's side, even though you knew you didn't fucking deserve it, and wondered why they weren't giving you disgusted looks. Why they didn't hate you as much as they clearly hated Dwight. 

Did they- did they not know? 

"Negan's coming tomorrow," Dwight said bluntly. "Three trucks, probably. Twenty Saviors and him. I can slow them down, bring some trees down in the road. Buy a little time for you guys to get ready." 

Darrie shifted, his arm around you tightening and he and Rick exchanged a look. Rick's eyes softened and he smiled slightly when he caught your eye, and you swallowed hard and returned to studying your toes with careful dedication. They didn't know. That was the only thing you could figure. They didn't know about the baby. If Darrie did, he'd be across the room sneering at you same as he did at Dwight. He'd been getting tortured in a cell, and you'd fucked Negan and gotten pregnant with his baby. 

God, you wanted to puke. 

"If you can take them out, that's where we start. You kill them, I'll radio back to the Sanctuary."

"The Sanctuary?" Rick asked, tone pissed. 

You mumbled around your thumbnail. "Home sweet home for Negan. He thinks he's fucking Jesus. Not- not ninja man over there, but like, lord and savior in these trying times." 

You made accidental eye contact with Shane while gesturing broadly at Jesus, and he looked so goddamn concerned it made your eyes fill. Stare at the floor, Ace. Stare at the floor, and don't look at him. 

If you looked at him again, you'd run right over there and throw yourself in his arms, and you couldn't. You wouldn't do that to him. 

Dwight made a noise of agreement and continued outlining his plan. "I can radio back to them and say everything's ok. You drive the trucks back, I can lead you right inside, and with the right plan, we can wipe out the rest. Check to see if your friend's still alive." 

"She will be. Negan likes women with grit, and he won't just kill her unless he's got no other choice," you informed the floor.

"I agree with her, but I can't guarantee that," D said seriously. "We get the workers on our side, and we will, and we go from outpost to outpost and end this." 

Dead silence greeted him, and you gnawed on your fingernail some more until Darrie tapped your shoulder. You looked up to find all eyes on you. 

"Would that shit work, sis?" Darrie asked. 

"It'll-"

"Wasn't fuckin' askin' you," Darrie snapped at Dwight. "Asked my sister." 

"Look, I didn't know anything about Negan coming here," you told him honestly. If you just talked to Darrie, you'd be fine. He was your brother. He knew what you were like. He knew what Will had known all along, and he was still talking to you, even after seeing you on Negan's arm over and over again. "But the workers will side with whoever promises them food and safety and doesn't hurt them. The Saviors inside will fight, but… yeah. It could work." 

Darrie nodded. Rick sighed as you studied your feet some more, leaning into your brother and closing your eyes 'cause you were fucking exhausted now. 

"Keep talking," Rick said flatly. 

Dwight did.


	35. Lie #35: "That's Cheerful." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> domestic violence/abuse  
> mentions of past rape/non con

He drummed his fingers on the butt of his gun as he watched Dwight sling the crossbow over his shoulder and head for the truck. Shane couldn't help but wonder if this was the right move, or if they'd just fucked it up completely. 

Wondering about that was easier than worrying about Slugger. She was back, and he should have been beyond happy. But he wasn't. She'd barely looked at him, and when she had-

Shane didn't know what the fuck had happened, but he'd kill that bastard with his own goddamn bat. Hopefully tomorrow. 

"This the right play?" he asked abruptly. Dwight opened the door, glanced back at the three of them, and nodded sharply as he climbed in. 

"I think it might be the only play," Rick said slowly. "We just started it. The whole thing." 

"If he's lyin', Imma kill him real slow." 

Shane snorted at Dixon's disgusted tone. "That's fair." 

"When this is over, I don't care if he is sorry." Daryl's voice was hard as Rosita pulled the gate closed behind Dwight. "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch." 

"I'll help," Shane muttered. "Hold the knife for you, at least." 

"If he's lying, this is already over." 

Shane shot Rick a look. "Well hell, brother. That's cheerful." 

He caught Tara's hard look at Daryl from her steps and considered having a talk with her about that. Dixon had done the right thing. At least that's what Shane hoped. 

It was a chance, and Slugger had backed him up. 

Slugger was home. His Ace was back the fuck where she belonged, and suddenly whatever had happened and her wariness around him didn't matter. He needed to be right there, to keep an eye on her and make sure she was ok. 

At least this time, she wasn't beaten bloody like she'd been after the world ended or after that cockroach had managed to get his hands on her again. From what he'd seen, she didn't have a mark on her. 

Even as he thanked a handful of gods for small favors, he knew damn well being beaten up would have been the easy part for her. 

"Gonna crash at Rick's. Give you an' my sister some privacy," Daryl declared out of nowhere. 

Shane jerked his eyes from the absolutely nothing he'd been staring fixedly into while they walked to give Daryl a disgusted look. "Are you shitting me? She's been- What the fuck, Dixon. You know where she's been. Ain't nothing gonna happen tonight, asshole." 

The idea of it made him want to take a swing at her twin, and he tried to get his temper under control as his blood boiled. Sure, the two of them had a bit of a reputation in their little family, but did Daryl honestly think Shane would even, for a moment, consider- 

"Glad ya still got some damn sense, but I didn't mean it like that," Dixon said dryly. "Just meant, she's been gone awhile. Ya might wanna talk." 

Shane snorted and turned up their driveway, jerking a thumb toward the house. "You've been gone almost as long. Get the fuck inside and get a shower so we can also talk about how you don't have any sense." 

"The hell ya talkin' about?" Daryl's tone was damn near offended, and Shane didn't care. He gestured impatiently toward the door again and Dixon finally headed for the steps. 

Fucking Dixons, he thought irritably. He'd seen the flash of relief in Daryl's eyes when Shane told him to get inside. Yeah, Daryl hadn't exactly been a free man for long, and he was as worried about Ace as Shane himself. Like Shane would fucking let the man go to Rick's the first night he was back in Alexandria. Fuck no. 

Dixon loyalty ran too damn deep for that, and Shane chose to ignore the fact that he might have just included himself in the Dixon clan. 

"Look, I'm all for killing someone who needs killing, and that bat-toting bastard is mine, you hear me? But all things considered, Dwight did get your sister out of there," he commented as he followed Daryl up the porch steps. 

Dixon shot him a look over his shoulder as he opened the door. "So?" 

"So, maybe you should hold off on killing the man, just as a thank you." 

Daryl tossed hair from his eyes and shrugged one shoulder. "I did. I'll kill him after. Where's- oh." 

Shane had also been wondering where Ace was, but they didn't have to look all that hard. She was passed the fuck out on the couch, sound asleep curled in a ball with her knife and gun on the floor beside her. 

"Why isn't she upstairs?" Daryl whispered. 

"They took the mattresses. Couch is probably more comfortable," Shane whispered back, but he was concerned about that himself. "She look pale to you?" 

Daryl snorted softly. "Yeah. Somethin' ain't right with her, Walsh. See the way she was in there? Wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. Barely let me put an arm around her. Fucker did somethin'." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed grimly. "You aren't so good with the eye contact yourself these days, man." 

Dixon waved that off as Shane brushed blue hair from Slugger's temple, staring down at her. She was pale, for sure. And something wasn't right. But she was here. She was here, she was safe, and they could work it out together, whatever had happened. They would. Hell, they'd worked everything else out so far. 

Daryl whistled and tapped his arm, and Shane took the blanket from him with an absent thanks. Dixon bent and kissed his sister on the cheek as Shane tucked the blanket around her, then jerked his chin in the direction of the stairs, a question in his eyes. 

Shane shook his head and dropped down into the big chair nearby, boots and all, and kept his eyes on Slugger. 

"Yeah, what I thought," Daryl muttered. He clapped a hand on Shane's shoulder as he passed. "Get some damn sleep, Walsh. We gonna need it tomorrow." 

Shane didn't think he would, since he couldn't take his eyes off Slugger.

She came out in a wheelchair, and Shane's heart stopped all over again. She was chatting with the nurse pushing her, her eyes dancing as she gestured. The nurse laughed, and Shane wondered how the fuck she could do that. 

How could she talk and crack jokes right now?

He could still see Malcolm fucking Hall's hand on her face, and she had stitches in her forehead. He'd hit her, and Shane had known from the way her eyes slid from his that it wasn't the first time. 

And she was laughing as she was wheeled out of the hospital. 

"Hey, Slugger. You think hard so they could see your brain?" he asked, as casually as he could. 

She rolled her eyes and looked up at the nurse. "Thinks he's a comedian. I'm good to go, right?" 

"You're checked out. The doctor would like your comedian here to keep an eye on you overnight, but yes, you're good to go." 

The nurse started to reach for Slugger's elbow when she stood, but Shane beat her to it. "I'll keep two eyes on her. All night. Got a concussion there, Ace?" 

"Maybe a small one," Ace muttered as she slid into his passenger side. 

He'd already thrown the shirt he'd used to stop the bleeding on her head into the back. 

"Thanks, Linda," Ace said with a wave. 

Shane shut the door firmly and turned to Nurse Linda. "Anything specific I need to watch out for? Nausea, headache, all that, but anything else?" 

"No. She's going to be ok. Just make sure she doesn't sleep too long and report any throwing up, ok? Call if there's any problems." Nurse Linda waved to Ace, smiled at Shane, and took the wheelchair back through the doors. 

Shane rounded the Jeep and stopped at his door, taking a deep breath and shoving a hand through his hair before he wrenched it open and climbed in. "You ok?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, and I want to go home," she answered, voice a fake cheerful that almost hurt Shane's ears to hear. 

She absolutely wasn't fine, and Shane knew it. She wasn't really looking at him, and he could see the tightness in her eyes and the way she was chewing absently on her thumbnail. She'd be upset. Embarrassed he knew, probably. Scared that bastard would come to her apartment. 

Shane would fucking love it if he did. Georgia was a stand your ground state, and Shane was a sworn officer of the law. Hall should goddamn try to get to her. Which reminded him- 

"Hey, Slugger," he said quietly as he turned onto the road her building was on. 

"Hmm?" She sounded exhausted and distracted, and Shane hated to bug her with this shit right away, but it needed doing. He just needed her understanding and a couple of signatures, and it was done. 

He'd call Casey to swing by and pick the paperwork up, maybe, or he'd take it himself in the morning, and charges would be filed nice and neat and so would the restraining order. It was just a piece of paper, but it would give Shane another fucking reason to slam the door on Hall and throw away the goddamn key if he set foot near her. 

"I gotta talk to you about something, sweetheart. I just need your signature on some forms, and I can do the rest," he started. 

She turned as he parked at her building, her eyes going cool and distant as her tone. "My signature on what?"

Shane opened his eyes when he became aware of the godawful crick in his neck, trying to work it out even as his eyes creaked open. 

He was on his feet about two seconds later, because Ace, her gun, and her knife were gone. The blanket was folded neatly over the arm of the couch, and Shane really needed to get a goddamn grip. 

He shoved his hand through his hair and tried to breathe. They were in Alexandria. If something had happened, Shane would have woken up. She was just awake. Probably in the bathroom or something. Calm the fuck down, Walsh, he ordered himself sternly. 

He was in the kitchen, standing at the counter staring at the Atlanta skyline with a glass of water in his hand when she came downstairs. He heard her pause, heard her draw in a breath before she spoke. 

"Hey, Shane." 

Shane. Not Dickhead or hero or even a dryly sarcastic Walsh. Shane. He set the glass down on the counter and turned to look at her, wondering what the hell had happened. She hadn't sounded like that- 

Well, the last time she'd sounded and looked like that, she'd been asking in a cool tone what the fuck he thought he was doing, talking to Atlanta PD about her business. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he said quietly. He didn't know what it had been like. He didn't know what kind of damage that bastard had done under the surface. He wouldn't scare her, goddamn it. He'd seen her flinch away from him enough times in his life; he didn't want to add another one to it. "You doin' ok? Been worried sick about you, Slugger." 

"Don't call me Slugger," she said sharply, face contorting. 

"You're always gonna be my Slugger, baby, no matter how hard he tried to take that away." 

Shane heard the heat of his own tone; saw the crack in her careful fake composure. He caught the indrawn breath because he knew her now. He thought he'd known her before, in Atlanta. When the world was normal and she had more secrets than he'd ever have guessed. He'd been dead wrong, in many ways. 

But now? This was his woman. The only one for him, his best friend and partner through everything the world had tried to do to them. He knew her, soul to brilliant blue hair, and he took a small step her way at the look in the Dixon blue eyes that wouldn't quite meet his. "Ace?" he whispered. 

"Don't, Shane." 

He froze. She sucked in a deep breath and looked him square in the eyes for the first time since she'd come back, and all Shane saw was that bartender's smile as she lit a row of flaming shots and scared Rick. He saw her eyes dancing over a paint-covered bandanna, beside a string of incoming messages on his phone at two am.

He saw her face going from furiously yelling at him to calm composure as she told him they couldn't be friends anymore. 

She didn't fidget. Shane would have. Hell, Shane did, running a hand through his hair as he swallowed hard and leaned back against the counter. "What is it?" 

"I need you to know something," she said seriously. "It's not fair to you otherwise. And since I know once you know, we- Well." 

"Honey, there's not a single damn thing you can say right now that's going to make me not want you, so don't even think that for a minute," he snarled. 

She turned away, muscles in her jaw tightening. "Don't be so sure. I fucked Negan." 

"Ok," he said after a pause. He was waiting for the rest of it. There had to be more than that, right? He fucking knew that much- harem, wives, Negan's insinuations. Shane could put two and two together and come up with four. "You had to. It's just like-"

"No, I didn't. I didn't fucking have to. It's not like Mal. Negan didn't beat me bloody or threaten me in any way." 

Shane stared at her, gripping his gun belt so hard his fingers ached because if he let go, even for half a second, he was going to sweep her up and start crying. She was so closed off, so guarded. So fucking convinced that Shane was a blind idiot who didn't know how that bastard worked. 

He knew. Sure, it wasn't exactly the same as Hall. But Shane had two eyes and a brain in his fucking head, and he knew. Negan had backed her into a corner. 

Ace, his fucking Slugger, had been backed into many corners in her life. And she knew better than anyone how to get out of them. Shane loved her for that, as much as he hated that it was that way for her, because she did shit that others couldn’t make the choice to do. Others who didn't understand that surviving was worth damn near anything, if you were doing it for the right reason. 

Ace surviving was always the right reason, in Shane's mind. And he knew her well enough to know there was more to the story than that.

She was staring near him now, not into his eyes. "I made a choice, Shane. Right or wrong, I made a choice. It's not the same, and- for what it's worth… I'm sorry." 

"Ain't got a damn thing to be sorry for, sweetheart," he muttered around his clenched jaw. 

She shook her head. "We both know better. I know it's over between us, and-" 

"The hell you talkin' about?" he exploded, staring at her wildly. "Ace, for the love of fuck-" 

"No!" 

Her calm composure cracked with the word, and she glared at him as a tear slid down one cheek. "No, Shane. We both know we can't just pick up where we left off. I fucked fucking Negan. I did that. I made the choice. I don't need saving; I wasn't forced into it; and I'm not going to stand here and pretend that either of us can forget that fact! I won't let you, damn it." 

"I wish you'd call me Dickhead," he said quietly. 

She jerked, her eyes closing as another tear slid loose. "I can't." 

"Why?" 

"I swear to God, Shane, are you even listening to me? Or is your fucking hero complex blocking your ears?" 

Shane almost smiled at that, because it sounded like her. It sounded like his Slugger again, not this shit where she was trying to break up with him- or maybe get him to break up with her, he wasn't entirely sure- but he couldn't quite manage it. 

She was slamming a door in his face again, he thought dully. Telling him they couldn't be friends.

He shoved off the counter and stepped slowly to her. She swallowed hard and stared at her feet, but she didn't flinch or back away, so he closed the distance between them- physically, at least- and gave in to the urge he'd felt any time he was in her presence since the first moment he saw her, outside a bar and laughing with Jason and Ellie and Julie. 

His fingers in her hair, he kissed her cheek and whispered. "Slugger. Ace. I don't know what the hell is really going on here, sweetheart, but I see what you're doing. You're trying to push me away. I don't know why, but I can promise you, right here, right now- it won't work. I'm always gonna be here, sweetheart, even if you don't want me to be. I love the shit out of you. Always have, always will." 

She bit down on her lip hard enough she was probably tasting blood. Shane kissed her cheek again and headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob and looked at her. Arms wrapped tight around her stomach, she stood where he'd left her, staring at the ground, and it damn near killed him to open that fucking door. 

But he did, because he knew her. Nothing he said would make a difference right now, but that was ok. He'd waited for her before; he'd wait for her again. He'd be right fucking here until the end of time, waiting for her to call for him.

"You reach out, I'll be here. No matter what, Slugger. And no matter what you think, that's not one of your last call lies." 

She sighed and looked at him again. "I don't need saving, Shane." 

"I know. But I'll be here anyway."

He closed the door softly behind him and went to look for Rick. Negan needed to die today.


	36. Lie #36: "See? It's Not That Hard." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> domestic violence/abuse

You slammed the door in his face and stood for a minute, fury washing over you in a red wave. How dare he? How dare he? 

You weren't a victim. You weren't his case, or a statistic. You didn't need some white fucking knight riding up on his horse with a shiny badge and a packet of paperwork to come rescue you. 

You were fine. You were more than capable of saving yourself if you needed saving. 

And you didn't. It had been your fault, after all. You'd been flirting with Shane- Mal was right about that, because you were always flirting with Shane a little; it was your thing- and you shouldn't have been. Especially not while Mal was playing. You should have made sure the attention stayed on Grave Behavior, not on your behavior, and- 

You slumped down, back against your door, and slid all the way to the floor. Who the fuck were you kidding? 

Your face hurt. Your head hurt. You were fucking tired. 

He'd knocked you clean out. Mal had. And it didn't matter that it was an accident- head, meet trailer hitch; hitch wins- he'd knocked you out. 

And then he'd left. 

You sighed and pushed to your feet, heading into the kitchen for water. Dickhead- Shane. Shane had been right about you needing to hydrate, and you needed to sleep. You tried to remember the rules for concussions- didn't you need to set a bunch of alarms to wake you up every few hours or something?- but you couldn't think past- 

You'd told him you couldn't be friends. He'd crossed a goddamn line, a major one. How dare he go to the PD and start pressing charges without even asking you? How dare he assume he knew shit about your business? 

This was between you and Mal, and by god you would handle it with Malcolm. Shane had no fucking business butting in. 

You sucked down water angrily, then hurled the glass into the sink. You heard it shatter and winced, looking down at hands that shook and wondering when you'd learn to get control of your temper. 

Mal hated your temper. You hated it too. It made you like Will. Slamming doors, throwing glasses, screaming at your friend in the hallway- damn it. Damn it all. 

You took a deep breath, swiped at your eyes, and very deliberately went to bed.

Why the hell didn't you tell him? You'd been planning to. You wanted to. You tried to. 

You couldn't. 

Even flat out declaring that you'd fucked Negan, that look in his eyes hadn't faded. He still stared at you like you were a long lost work of goddamn art, and he'd been searching for you his whole life. 

And you couldn't do it. You couldn't say the words that would make that look go away. You couldn't force them out past the lump in your throat every time he called you Slugger. 

You were such a coward. 

"Shane, I'm pregnant," you muttered. "See? It's not that hard. 'Shane, I'm pregnant.'"

"Ya what?" 

You froze, eyes closing as you grimaced. Oh, fuck. Oh, fucking hell. Darrie. 

You turned slowly, gnawing on your already ragged thumbnail. "Um. Hey. I didn't know you were there." 

"Shut up. Ya said you're pregnant. Ya serious?" Your twin's eyes were huge and vaguely panicked, and you had a feeling he was remembering the same night you were. "Ya pregnant, sis?" 

Fucking hell. You had to start somewhere, right? 

"Yeah. It's Negan's," you said with a forced casualness you absolutely did not feel. 

Daryl stared. You stared back. 

"Holy shit," he muttered. "Ya tell Walsh?" 

And with that, you broke. 

Daryl, as usual, seemed rather unsure of what to do when confronted with his sobbing sister, and as usual, he did the right thing. He grabbed your hand and the glass of water Shane had left on the counter, pulled you into the living room, and made you sit on the couch. Then he wrapped his arms around you and let you sob it out, wild and hysterical and half-coherent, at best, as you tried to talk through the tears. 

"Oh, just shut up an' blubber, sis," he mumbled at one point, which only made you cry harder. 

You shut up and blubbered, until the wild sobs faded to soft hitching ones and you were probably a goddamn mess. You pulled away from Darrie guiltily, swiping at your eyes, and he scoffed. 

"Drink this an' quit actin' like I'm pissed at ya," he ordered, shoving the water into your hands. 

It was catch it or wear it, and you almost ended up with the second option anyway. But you sipped, then gulped greedily. Damn it, he'd been right about that. "How come you're not?" 

"'Cause I ain't stupid, and I suspect Walsh ain't either. What'd you tell him?" 

You sighed and turned the glass in your hands. "I didn't. Just that I'd fucked Negan." 

"Think that's a surprise to anyone?" Daryl's eyes were soft when yours shot to them, and he took the glass from you impatiently and grabbed your hand. "I heard some of the story, sis. Workers on the line, they ain't supposed to talk to me, but they did. So did that asshole Dwight. Know ya married him for- for Merle." 

Your eyes filled again at the mention of your brother. "Oh, god, Darrie, Merle. Merle." 

"Yeah," he said softly, pulling you in again. "I know. Miss the fuckin' crazy bastard." 

"Me too," you muttered into his shoulder. "He'd be so ashamed of me, though." 

"Shut up, sis. Shit." 

You pulled back and glared at your twin. "He would. Proved Will right, didn't I?" 

Daryl's face went hard as stone. "What the hell ya sayin'? Will ain't been right about nothin' a day in his life, except how much booze he could go through in a week. He sure as shit weren't right about a damn thing he said to ya, an' I thought ya put all that behind ya." 

"I did," you muttered. "Then I ended up with Negan, and I- I- Daryl. I'm pregnant. I'm not even supposed to be able to get pregnant!" 

"That's not what the damn doc said, sis. Ya know that right?" 

You blinked hard and shoved a hand through your hair. "The fuck?" 

"He said it'd be unlikely, and it'd be hard. Not that it couldn't happen. I's wonderin' if ya even heard that part, honestly." Daryl shifted and reached for your hand again as you did some more blinking. "Look. Sis. Will ain't right about nothin'. He's a fucked up bastard, an' I'm glad he's dead. Don't ya go lettin' him fuck you up again. Ya different now, Ace. We all are, but ya- Walsh is good for ya. Don't fuck it up 'cause of Will." 

"Shane is the best man I know, except maybe you," you whispered. 

"Naw, he's better'n me." 

"Shut up," you fired back automatically. "Darrie. You hate me? I'm carrying Negan's baby, and- Look, god knows I don't want anything to do with him, but I want this baby. It's mine." 

"'Course it is," Daryl agreed, eyeing you sideways as he tossed hair from his eyes. "Why the fuck would I hate ya? Ya tried to keep Merle alive. We do that shit for each other. Somethin' Walsh said- we move mountains, an' grab a shovel. I don't know, I wasn't really listenin'. Ya did it for Merle, right?" 

You sniffed, hand tightening on Daryl's as you thought about Merle's pale face, eyes pinched even in sleep. "Yeah. We needed- we needed more points. For his treatment. Fucking doctor, he had a double infection and the man wouldn't do anything without- So I did what I could. I know what that makes me." 

"Makes ya a fuckin' Dixon, and that's fuckin' it. Listen to yourself, sis. Merle was dyin'. Merle fuckin' died. That's called bein' forced into something, but ya ain't gonna believe me on that one. Fine," he said, waving you off as you frowned. "But believe me on this one- Walsh? He loves ya. He ain't gonna give two single shits, ya hear me? Talk to ya damn cop. Shit." 

He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then shoved up off the couch. "We gotta get busy, but I'm getting ya breakfast." 

"Don't bother," you called. "I'll just puke it up again." 

"Maybe a nutrient'll stick. Ya pale." 

They wouldn't let you do much of anything to help. Darrie tried to convince you to stay hidden inside the whole time, but you told him in no uncertain terms just where he could shove that idea. 

"Macho sexist bullshit," you mumbled, glaring at the sun as the morning wore on. "Not gonna fuckin' let him sideline me. Not this time. Think I don't want a piece of Negan too?"

Carl paused near you. "What'd you say, Aunt Ace?" 

God, you loved this kid. You shook your head and waved him on with a smile. "Nothing, kid. They letting you out there? With a machine gun?" 

"Hardy har har," he muttered, rolling his one eye dramatically. "Yes, they're letting me out there. Daryl and Uncle Shane fussing over you?" 

"Something like that," you agreed, then grimaced against your will when your stomach rolled hard. 

"You ok?" 

Guilt was a goddamn bitch, you thought bitterly. "Yeah, I'm good. Just tired still. Should probably get some water, too."

"You seem kinda pale. You eaten today?" Carl asked, reaching into the bag at his side and producing a bottle of water. 

You couldn't help the smile when he held it out to you, and slung an arm around his shoulders for a quick hug instead. "You my mom now? Yes, I've eaten. Go on, get back to work. Take your water. I'll get my own, don't worry." 

"Make sure you do," he said sternly. "Uncle Shane's already stressed enough." 

"Yeah, I'm sure," you muttered as he headed off up the road. "I'm sure." 

You grabbed a sketchbook and a bottle of water and headed back to the townhouse's porch. You'd sit and sketch and make Darrie happy, and be close enough to any new developments to lend a hand, making you happy. 

Things were going to be starting soon, you knew. D could only stall them so long, and Negan- well, Negan was inevitable. 

You almost regretted not going with Jesus and Judith to Hilltop. If Negan won here, things would get bad for you and yours if you were taken again. Then again, if Negan won here, everyone you cared about was going to die bloody and hard anyway. 

When the gate opened, you looked up from absently doodling trees and shit. You couldn't concentrate, so anything real was out of the question. You blinked rapidly at what you saw, flipped the sketchbook closed and stuffed it and the water bottle inside the door, and started down the steps to join the knot of people gathering at the gate. 

It wasn't every day you saw garbage trucks following bicycles loaded with deadass silent and heavily armed people. This was a new one in your book, and damn you were curious. 

Shane glanced over when you walked up and offered you a faint smile. You couldn't manage one in return, no matter how badly you wished you could. It just hurt too fucking much, being this close to him. It hurt more than you'd believed possible, considering everything you'd been through when it came to him. 

Maybe because this time, it was real. You and him, you were really done. And he still looked at you like you'd hung the moon. 

"Hey, Ace," Rick said casually. "You know these guys?" 

You shook your head as Michonne joined you with a touch on your arm and a welcoming look. "No, and I have some questions, that's for sure." 

"You'll have more," Michonne murmured. "They live in the garbage dump. That's Jadis." 

You were still processing 'garbage dump' and had to settle for a long blink at 'Jadis'. "What- you know what? I'm just going to stand here and shut up," you muttered back as Rick and Shane turned to the woman approaching. 

You could feel her studying you, and you raised your chin and studied right back. 

"What you fight for," she said finally. 

"Not the place-- the people, each other," Rick answered. "You're a part of that now." 

"We take. We don't bother. Our way." Jadis' eye was appraising, and something about her just seemed… off. "Maybe another way." 

It wasn't the clothes, or the condensed, no-frills speech. Hell, you'd heard- and seen- weirder in the Lullaby. It was something else. You wished you could figure out what the fuck it was. 

Her eyes flicked up and down Rick, then she looked at Michonne. "Yours?" she asked with a jerk of her head. 

Michonne gave you a slightly wild-eyed look. "Yeah, we're together." 

"I lay with him after. You care?" 

Oh, god, maybe that was it, you thought, eyes going wide with the effort to not crack up right there. She had the mega hots for Rick. That's what you'd been picking up on. You saw the way Shane shifted, and made the mistake of glancing at the motion. His eyes met yours, dancing with the same amount of barely contained humor you felt, and you had to bite down hard on your tongue to keep from laughing. 

"We should get back to work," Michonne said, rather more diplomatically than you would have. If it had been Dickhead- 

You turned and walked away, no longer thinking it was funny. It wasn't Dickhead, and you'd lost your Dickhead. If it was Shane Jadis had wanted, you'd have done nothing, because you didn't have a claim on him anymore. 

The plan, such as it was, was simple enough. They'd rigged the semi outside the gates to explode, with an amount of ordinance that had made you whistle and ease back some as Darrie was explaining it to you a little too enthusiastically. Negan would come, Rick would give him a chance to surrender. If he didn't- which he wouldn't- they'd blow the truck, and the battle would begin. People lined the walls and stood placed around the gates, and Michonne and one of the garbage people were up in the apartments as snipers. 

You missed Carol hard, thinking about a guard tower in the prison and teaching her how to shoot on the road. She'd almost hit Rick's feet with one, and you'd teased her mercilessly over it later. 

She didn't miss much now. 

You studied the vest in your hands with distaste, but your brother's face had said quite clearly that was an argument you wouldn't win, and you lung it on with a sigh. "Where the hell did he even find this?" you mumbled, trying to get it strapped on properly. 

"Oceanside. Here, Slugger, let me help," Shane answered. He tugged firmly a few times, slapped something in place, and jerked the shoulder to check it. "All good." 

You took a deep breath and met his eyes. "Thanks." 

"Always. Be careful, sweetheart." 

"You too," you whispered, throat closing. You should tell him now, damn it. He had the right to know. 

He flashed you a crooked grin that stopped your heart for a moment. "Whatever it takes. Promise." 

Then he headed for the ladder to climb up with Rick as a turkey call sounded in the distance. 

Negan was coming.


	37. Lie #37: "Only Fuckin' Facts That Matter Are She's Mine, I Love Her, And I'm Gonna Kill Negan Today." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

He didn't tell her he loved her again, but god knew he wanted to. He stood beside Rick and watched her instead of the road, wondering if maybe he should have. 

No, better to give her some space. Let her work it out, whatever it was, and she'd see. She had to see. 

"She ok?" Rick asked. "She seems off." 

"Honestly, brother, I don't even know. Told me she fucked Negan. Said it was a choice, and I know damn well it wasn't. Not really," he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair and forcing his eyes to the road. "Said she knows we're through, and how I can't let it go, 'cause she won't let me." 

"Can you let it go?" 

"Can I break your nose? Ain't nothin' to let go, and we'll go a few rounds if you try to say otherwise," he snarled, shifting to glare at Rick. 

Rick held up a hand for peace. "Calm down. I wasn't suggesting there was. Just trying to get all the facts here." 

"Only fuckin' facts that matter are she's mine, I love her, and I'm going to kill Negan today." 

Rick sighed. "I hope so. Got my back, 22?" 

"Always, brother," Shane agreed. 

"Rosita," Rick called down. "Get into position. I'll signal you." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair again, and looked down at her as well. "And the wall's gonna hold? You sure?" 

"It'll hold," she said grimly. 

Shane hoped like hell she knew as much as she seemed like she did. His eyes strayed to Daryl, standing right there at Ace's shoulder, and found Dixon watching him back. Daryl nodded to him and Shane nodded back. 

Dixon would watch her ass, Shane knew. He still wished he was the one at her side, where he fucking belonged. 

"All points are covered. Every contingency is already met. I come armed with two barrels of the truth." 

Shane and Rick looked at each other in surprise. That wasn't Negan. That was Eugene. 

"A test is upon you, and I'm giving out the cheat sheet." 

Eugene stood on a flatbed semi as it pulled to a stop, something that looked distressingly like a coffin covered in a sheet and roped to the truck as well. He held a bullhorn, was dressed all in black, and seemed oddly comfortable. 

Shane wondered what they were holding over his head, to have him working with them like this. 

"H-Hello," he said, looking at both Shane and Rick on the wall. "I come salved with the hope that it is my dropped knowledge you will heed. Options are zero to none. Compliance and fealty are your only escape. Bottom lining it-- you may thrive, or you may die. I sincerely wish for the former, for everyone's sake." 

"He's gone dark side, hasn't he?" Rick murmured. 

Shane grunted. "Don't know. Could be coerced." 

"The jig is up, and in full effect. Will you comply, Rick?" 

In the silence, Shane knew what Rick was thinking. Eugene was one of theirs, and he was right by the truck they'd rigged to blow. If they triggered it, Eugene was dead. It was that simple. 

Finally Rick shifted, sighed, and called down to Eugene. "Where's Negan?" 

Shane saw the answer before the man said it. He lowered the loud speaker for a moment and the first crack of emotion bleed into his face, into his voice. 

But he said it anyway. "I'm Negan." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair as Rick's eyes closed, then glanced down at the others. Rosita stared back, her eyes hard and jaw set, finger on the detonator. Ace's lip was curled in a sneer as she spoke rapidly to Daryl, whose expression about matched hers. Clearly, Slugger was unsurprised by this, which had Shane wondering how long it took for Eugene to go over to the Saviors completely. Two days? Three? Shit. 

Rick nodded down at Rosita, and she pushed the button and turned her face away. Shane dropped down with Rick and braced for the blast, and- 

Nothing happened. 

"What the fuck?" he whispered to Rick, who looked just as confused as he was. 

Two seconds later, Shane had a gun in his face and his hands in the air. 

Shane stared at the blonde, her hair in a tight ponytail and a deadly serious look in her eyes to match the deadly weapon pointed at his head. 

"Put it down, ma'am. Police," Shane said firmly, hands up and open and loose. "Lower your weapon, now." 

She didn't. 

Shane honestly had no idea how to get out of this situation.

"Ok. You're too close to go for your gun. So, what do you do?" 

Shane didn't take his eyes off the woman as he answered the training instructor. He'd made that mistake once, and the bruise was still there- one of many he'd gotten in this seminar. He narrowed his eyes and thought about everything they'd taught him. "Could try to get the gun from her, but that's a good way to get my ass shot if I fail." 

The blonde cracked a slight grin, and Shane grinned back. 

"Yes, that's possible. So the first thing you do is get off line. Go to the side, as you strike out. Here, change places with me. Alice, stay put," the instructor said patiently. 

Fucking Jadis. Shane ignored the fact that one of her greasy minions had him at gunpoint and focused on her, standing over Rick with one of the guns they'd found for her trained on the back of his head. Down below, Brion opened the gate, and Shane spared a second from glaring at her as panic started to rise. 

Ace stood square and silent, looking down her nose and the business end of a rifle. 

Shit, that wasn't good, he thought. That thing with her dad reared its ugly head when she least expected it, and he hoped like hell she kept it together this time. Like when the prison fell and he'd been worried she'd freeze up, but she'd gone into badass mode. 

Eugene climbed off the truck as Negan and Dwight hopped out of their own. Shane met Dwight's look and promised him fucking death if Dixon didn't get to him first. Bastard had betrayed them after all, and Shane didn't care what he'd done for Slugger anymore. 

"Did you ever hear the one about the stupid little prick named Rick who thought he knew shit but didn't know shit and got everyone he gave a shit about killed? He had a friend named Dickhead, and man did he earn that one. It's about you two," Negan declared, pointing up and him and Rick with a grin. "You're all gonna wanna put your guns down now." 

"No one drops anything," Rick fired back, that stubborn bastard look Shane knew and loved coming into his eyes. 

Shane wasn't sure that was the best decision Rick had ever made, but what the hell. They were all gonna die anyway, might as well die fighting. 

He should have told Slugger he loved her again. 

"We had a deal," Rick hissed at Jadis. 

"Tamiel came for the boat things. Followed ones who took. Made a better deal." 

Jesus, that pissed Rick off. Shane kept one eye on his brother and one eye on Negan, and ground his teeth together as he realized he was going to have to trust Daryl to keep an eye on his Slugger. Damn it, Shane should have been down there with her. 

"You push me, and you push me. And you push me, Rick! You just tried to blow us up, right? I mean, I get me, my people. But Eugene? He's one of yours. And after what he did-- he stepped up! You people… are animals!" Negan declared, a disgusted look on his face. 

No, Shane needed to be up here with Rick, no matter how much he hated leaving her down there. He looked over to Carl, further down the wall, and gave the kid a reassuring nod. Carl nodded back, looking rather more unbothered at being held at gunpoint than Shane was entirely comfortable with, all things considered. 

"The universe gives you a sign, and you just shove your finger right up its ass!" Negan was still fucking talking, always talking, and Shane resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his upraised middle finger. 

He really, really wanted to kill this bastard. 

"Dwight, Simon," Negan said, eyes on Shane like he'd heard his thoughts. "Chop, chop."

Simon, Shane thought. There was another one on his list. He'd let Daryl have Dwight- after all, the man had tortured Dixon- but Shane wanted Simon as well. 

They climbed onto the semi's bed and started unlatching the covered object. Shane had been right when he first saw it, and he had a sinking feeling things were about to get a whole lot fucking worse before they got any better. 

It was a coffin.

Shane didn't think about his little sister all that often, really. It was his dad he thought about the most, and how he'd walked out on him and his mom. His dad was a grown up, and grown ups were supposed to be better than that. 

Shane decided he would never walk out on someone he said he loved. 

He grimaced at the tie his mom had laid out with his suit coat, wondering why in the world he had to put the thing on. Sure, he missed Birdie sometimes, and he supposed going to check on her grave once a year or so was kinda important, but she'd been so little. What did she care if Shane wore a tie? 

But his mom did care, and Shane loved his mom, so he started trying to tie the damn tie. 

He loved the way curse words sounded in his head or when he was hanging with Rick, and he couldn't wait to be old enough to not get told not to say them. 

"Hey, man. My mom's with your mom talking about flowers and shit. You ready?" 

Shane glanced up and half-grinned. "Don't let her hear you say 'shit'." 

"Who?" Rick asked, coming into the room and impatiently taking the tie from Shane's hands. "I told you how to do this, didn't I?" 

Since Rick had, and Shane had promptly teased him for three days, Shane stood still and let his best friend fix his damn tie. "Either of them, honestly." 

"Yeah, that's fair," Rick agreed. "Ok, done. Come on. Your mom's pretty weepy this year, just to warn you." 

Shane sighed and grabbed a pack of tissues to shove in his coat pocket on the way down the hall.


	38. Lie #38: "That Depends Entirely On What You're About To Ask Me For, Dickhead." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> major character death (canon)   
> mentions of past child abuse  
> mentions of past domestic violence/abuse

There was a gun pointed squarely at your nose. The person on the other end had no emotion in her eyes, no expression on her face. 

You could feel your hands shaking. 

For a moment, you were bending to pick up a can and the tree behind you exploded into wood chips, and- 

You breathed deeply and caught your brother's concerned look. The tight smile you managed did nothing to reassure him, and you were cursing which ever fucking demon was in control of your brain that was making this so damn hard right now. You'd been in firefights since the end of the world and not batted an eye. Why was one gun on you suddenly making you spiral like this? 

"So, you don't like Eugene anymore." 

Negan. You turned your attention back to Negan, and that was almost enough to make you forget about the gun. He stood beside the coffin, now standing on its end, like whatever was inside would come striding out any moment now. 

Your mom hadn't gotten a coffin. Neither had Merle. 

Shit, Ace, focus, you demanded of yourself wildly. Focus. 

"You guys gotta like Sasha. I do too," Negan continued, laying a hand on his chest with that predatory gleam in his eyes you knew too well. He tapped on the coffin twice with Lucille and it suddenly clicked. 

"Oh, shit," you whispered. Alive or dead? Honestly, you weren't sure which was worse. 

"Got her right here, packaged for your convenience, alive and well!" Negan's tone was too goddamn smug, and you didn't like it. He was up to something, something more than just the performance this was. "Now I brought her so I wouldn't have to kill all of you, and not killing all of you could get complicated. See, I know there's a lot of firepower left in there, Rick. So I'm gonna make this simple." 

Here it was, you thought. Negan's eyes roved the wall and the open gate, and he smiled slowly when he saw you. He turned back to Rick and Shane, and the shaking in your hands upgraded to a cold, hard ball in the pit of your stomach and a rising wave of nausea. Then again, the nausea could have been the kid. 

"I want all the guns you've managed to scrape up. Yep, I know about those too. I want every last grain of lemonade you've got left. I want a person of your own choosing for Lucille." He pointed at the bat and flashed a grin, and you rolled your eyes and muttered 'asshole' before you could stop yourself. 

Negan turned like he'd heard you and pointed through the gate. "And my Dixon twins. I see you in there. I gotta have my Daryl back, and I mean, really, princess. Did you think you'd get anywhere and I wouldn't come looking for you? So, Dickhead- you'll be coming with me as well, because I clearly cannot leave you and Rick alone together, and because my princess seems to need a reminder that that is my baby she's growing! Not yours, Shaney boy. Mine." 

Oh, fuck, you thought clearly before you turned and puked, right onto the shoes of the asshole holding Daryl at gunpoint. He stepped backward as Negan laughed, and you swiped a hand over your mouth and wished the ground would open up and take you now. 

So you wouldn't have to see the looks on everyone's faces now that they knew. 

Daryl wasn't even looking at you; he was busy trying to light Negan on fire with the power of his gaze. He'd been the safest, the one you knew you could look at first. Just over his shoulder, Rosita was staring. You could feel other eyes as Negan laughed again. 

"Come on, get that gun off her. She's pregnant, damn it," he said, gesturing sharply. 

The gun dropped from your face, and you felt a wash of relief you hated yourself for. 

"Let's see… guns, lemonade, Lucille, Daryl, Dickhead, my wife and unborn child… And the pool table! And all the pool cues and chalk, and I want it now! Or Sasha dies, and then all of you. Except you, Ace, darlin', until that baby is born." Negan spread his hands, giving Rick a winning smile. "Come on, Rick. Just because I brought her in a casket doesn't mean she has to leave in it." 

You were staring at your toes. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew you needed to look. You needed to give him that, at least. You had to. You took a deep breath, bit your lip, and looked up at the wall. 

Shane was staring at you, ignoring Negan, ignoring the gun on him. Just at you. 

You mouthed 'I'm sorry' as your eyes filled and your vision blurred. 

You winced, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed and a friendly expression. Shane had drawn the officers aside when they'd lit you up with blue lights, giving you a look of intense irritation that promised even if he got you out of this one, you'd still pay for it in spades. 

They were talking quietly, Shane making apologetic gestures and clearly charming the shit out of the female cop. You almost laughed when he flashed his lady killer grin and her cheeks turned faintly red. 

You had a feeling any move you made might end up with you being arrested and Shane losing his job, at the very least, and that was the last thing you wanted. The arrest wouldn't bug you- not like you hadn't been before- but Dickhead hadn't done anything to get himself in trouble except hang out with you and make a suggestion to improve one of your pieces.

It absolutely wasn't his fault you hadn't told him it was illegal. 

All three of them laughed again, Shane clapped Officer Franks - you'd seen him a time or two, but his female partner was new- on the back, and they climbed into their car. They whooped the siren once as they turned the corner and Shane waved. 

You waited to push off the wall until they'd disappeared and Shane shoved a hand through his hair. You strolled to his side and shot him a look from the corner of your eye. "So." 

"You're officially one of my CI's." 

"Ok," you said. After a pause, Shane staring up the road with his hands in his pockets, you fidgeted and asked the question. "What's a CI?" 

Shane snorted and turned to grab your gear bag. "Criminal informant. You feed me information, and I was meeting with you today. I get to keep my job and your ass stays out of jail. This time."

"Thanks," you said, gnawing on your lip as you walked with him toward his Jeep. "Hey, Shane?" 

Shane grunted and tossed your gear into the backseat. You grabbed his hand and waited until he looked at you, temper simmering in his eyes. 

Funny how the temper didn't worry you, like it would have with Mal. 

"I'm sorry. Really," you told him. "I was done, and we were gonna leave, but you said something about the voting sticker and it was so perfect and- I should have waited till later. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you in that position." 

He sighed and pulled you in for a hug. "At least warn me next time, alright? Wanna make it up to me?" 

"That depends entirely on what you're about to ask me for, Dickhead," you said dryly, pulling away to eye him suspiciously. "What do you want?" 

Shane grinned. "Dinner, booze, and baseball. Game on tonight." 

"Done," you agreed with a laugh. "How about Chinese?" 

"Only if you cook it. I want the full treatment, girl," he said severely. 

You thought for a minute and shrugged. "Yeah, I can do that. Come on, give me a lift to my car." 

You honestly weren't sure exactly how it happened, too busy in your own personal hell to pay attention to Negan or the guns or the rapidly worsening situation. You blinked and Negan went from being an asshole to yelling, and out of the coffin came Sasha, undead and on a mission for Negan's flesh. 

You hoped she got a piece, even as guilt churned. You'd been running away when she'd been captured. You should have gone back for her.

Gunfire exploded all around and somehow your fucked-up brain didn't shut you down. You spun and kicked out at the asshole who'd held the gun on you, and you caught her square in the stomach. Then you shot her between the eyes. 

Daryl grabbed your arm and hauled you back to back with him. "Aight, sis?" 

You shot out at a Savior through the gates and grunted. "Plan?" 

"Don't think there fuckin' is one. Come on, gotta move." 

"Wait, Darrie, Shane!" You turned, searching blindly through the chaos, but you couldn't see him. 

Daryl grabbed the back of your vest and started dragging you with him. "I said we gotta move, damn it!" 

"Darrie!" 

"Ace!" he shot back, voice mocking, and for a moment the chaos didn't matter and all that did was your brother thinking he knew shit about shit. 

Then a bullet winged by way too damn close and you realized maybe he did know what the hell he was talking about after all. "Damn it!" you yelled, returning fire even as you scrambled backward. "Dar-" 

"We'll find him, aight? Let's go!" 

Darrie and Merle were yelling. That wasn't entirely unusual, all things considered, but it wasn't something you enjoyed. You glared at the open door to your cramped bedroom and contemplated getting up and closing it. 

On the other hand, you were comfortable. 

You tried to tune them out and focus on the book you were supposed to be reading for school, but your brothers' voices had taken on a vicious edge that sent tension creeping up your spine. You glared at the door again and turned the page, not really hearing their words, only the tone. 

When you heard the unmistakable sound of fist on flesh- you knew it well at twelve- you tossed the book aside and scrambled for the door, heart in your throat. Had Will gotten home and you didn't notice? Who was he hitting? How bad was it going to be this time? 

You skidded to a halt and stared. 

Daryl flew at Merle, trying to get another hit on your older brother. Merle looked somehow both amused as hell and incredibly pissed off, holding Daryl at bay easily. 

"What, that the best ya got, lil brother? Thought ya was pissed!" 

The sharp edge of his voice, hard and mean, had you unfreezing. 

Fuck no. Fuck that. You three got enough of this shit from Will, you were not letting your brothers fight each other, damn it. 

You flew forward, throwing yourself between them. You shoved Darrie backward and glared from him to Merle, all three of you breathing hard. 

Darrie and Merle had both frozen, eyes wide, at your sudden appearance. 

"What the hell do you two think you're doin'?" you yelled. "Don't you get enough of this shit when Will's here?" 

Darrie was pale, eyes wide as he glared right back. "What the hell were we doin'? What were you thinkin'? I coulda hit ya!" 

"Well, maybe that means you shouldn't be punching at Merle," you shot back, annoyed. "What's so damn important it needs to involve punching?" 

Merle started laughing out of nowhere, his arm falling around your shoulders as he leaned into your side. "Ya tell 'im, sis!" 

"Oh, shut up, asshole," you snapped, turning your glare his way. "Don't think I didn't see how fuckin' pissed you were." 

"Language, sis, for shit's sake," he said mildly, his eyes still dancing with half-irritated humor. "We's good. Daryl thinks he's man enough to take me down, he's welcome to try." 

You rolled your eyes so hard you hurt your head. "Both of you are jerks. We can't do that. We watch out for each other; not pound on each other. Promise?" 

Merle and Daryl looked at each other and sighed. 

"Yeah, sis. Promise," Merle said softly, and kissed your cheek. 

Darrie nodded, and you glared at them both for another long moment before nodding sharply. "Good. Now I'm gonna go try to do my damn homework. This book sucks dick." 

"Language, Ace, goddamn!"


	39. Lie #39: "Not Her, Brother." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

Sasha almost took him down. Shane had half a heartbeat to be goddamn impressed, then Carl started shooting. 

Kid had a real impulse control issue, Shane thought wildly, heart in his throat as gunfire exploded all around. But he had sound tactical sense. As moments went, there really wasn't going to be a better one. 

Shane ignored the gun on his head to glance down and check for Ace, catching her brother grabbing her and hauling her for cover by the back of the vest she'd put on. Relief washed through him, and Shane turned his attention to his current problem. 

"Down. Now," Jadis commanded Rick. 

His brother had one hand locked on his gun at his back and that look in his eyes Shane was starting to think of as Rick's throat-biting look. It was like an even more intense subset of the stubborn-bastard expression, and Shane was watching for Rick's cue, cause it was coming. 

"We can make another deal," Rick offered, ever the peacemaker. 

Jadis calmly lowered her gun and shot him in the fucking hip. 

Shane decided that was his cue after all, and he moved. He sidestepped as he brought his hands up in some distant memory from a month at Quantico, catching the barrel of the rifle on him between his forearms and twisting it out of the jerk's hands. He tossed it away and bulled into the man, knocking him back and hoping to send him over the edge of the platform. 

He sort of succeeded, since the man grabbed onto Shane and pulled him down too. 

Goddamn it, Shane thought as he fell. He needed to get Rick. 

They hit hard, air trying to rush from Shane's lungs and sharp pain spearing up from the shoulder he landed on. That wasn't a good sign, but Shane was a little busy scrambling for a knife or his gun or the rifle he'd taken from this fucker before the other man got a weapon up. He'd worry about injuries when Negan was dead and everyone was accounted for. 

Rick slammed onto the ground near him, and that half-second of distraction cost him. Knife halfway from its sheath, he found himself once again on the business end of a rifle, but from flat on his back there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

"Shit," he muttered. 

"Up. On your feet," Jadis demanded. "Both." 

Dead littered the street, and Shane's only consolation was how many of them were garbage people.

Then he saw Carl. 

On his knees near the far wall, surrounded by Saviors, the kid looked mildly concerned but largely undaunted. Shane, on the other hand, was instantly terrified. One glance at Rick showed him looking about the same. 

They were put on their knees in a row with the kid, and déjà vu warred with anger and fear, which come to think of it, was all the same as that awful night anyway. Shane hoped to hell Daryl got Slugger out of here entirely, and they went to Hilltop or the Kingdom, or ran away to Oceanside and stayed fucking safe. 

Just run away, Slugger, he thought wildly. Far away from here. Run away and live. 

"Well, shit, Rick. Just couldn't stick with us, huh?" Negan leaned on Lucille and stared down at them. 

Shane did his level fucking best to ignore the bastard, keeping his eyes on the road in front of them. Rick's hand was pressed to his side, covered in blood, and a corner of Shane's brain was counting down how long it had been since the man had been shot and wondering if there was a bullet lodged in there he needed to dig out. But mostly, Shane was hoping for a glimpse of Daryl and Slugger slipping over the wall or out the gate, and getting the fuck away from this place. 

Shane knew he was a goddamn dead man, and Rick and Carl with him. He just hoped like hell Negan took Rick out first, and Carl fast. Kid deserved better than this, and Rick didn't need to see his son die. 

"You had to go with these… filthy garbage people," Negan went on. "No offense." 

"Deal is for twelve, yes?" Jadis asked emotionlessly. 

Shane tuned them out as they negotiated, though Negan's 'people are a resource' was interesting and fucking disturbing, given the context. 

"Ah, Rick. This is just gonna make you sad. You too, Dickhead. God, you really do earn that name, don't you? Damn. Both of you, sad and broken. Gonna wish you were dead." Negan paced behind them, over toward Carl, and Shane watched from the corner of his eye. 

Shit, Shane thought. Shit. What do I do? What the fuck do I do?

"I like having fun. I do. But maybe you think that the guy that did what he did to your friends wasn't me, that that was some sort of a put-on, like I'm not the guy with the bat-- I'm just the guy that makes your kid spaghetti." 

What the fuck was with Negan and his goddamn spaghetti? Shane turned to glare Negan's way and realized Rick was doing the same, and Negan's cat-got-the-canary smile didn't fade as he put a hand to his forehead and sighed like the dramatic asshole he was. 

"Oh. Oh, shit. Maybe this is on me. Maybe this is all on me. I gotta make it right," he said sadly. "I guess I gotta start all over again." 

Shane really hated this motherfucking asshole. 

"I gotta tell you, Rick. If I had a kid, I'd want him to be just like your kid, which makes this so much harder. Especially since I am gonna have a kid! I wish I could keep Carl here around, to be a roll model for my little one, but…" he trailed off and sighed. "I guess I'll have to do it all myself, raising my baby." 

"You're not gonna win," Carl snarled out of nowhere. 

Shane didn't know if he wanted to hug the kid or hiss at him to shut the fuck up. Negan turned a look on him that Shane could only call fond, and his hands clenched into fists before he smoothed them out. Gunfire still echoed around town, but it was fainter now, more sporadic. 

Alexandria was falling, Shane suspected. 

"Carl," Negan said, tone mildly pedantic. "It is over. Why don't you point your one ball up the street there and take it all in?" 

Shane's head whipped up at the sound of a scream, catching the falling figure from the upper balcony of their sniper perch. 

No. Oh, god, no. Not Michonne, he thought, eyes wide. He turned to Rick and Carl and they looked devastated, Rick's eyes huge and blank and red-rimmed. 

Shane knew what that felt like. "Not her, brother," he whispered urgently. 

Simon the asshole smacked him on the back of the head to shut him up, and Negan laughed. 

"Ohh, wow. You just lost somebody important to you right now- like, just now," he said, crouching in front of Rick. "Oh, Dickhead there might deny it, but you and I know it. Jesus. That is timing. Well, Rick. You chose this. I truly don't know what more I could have done to warn you. This isn't a warning. This… is punishment." 

Negan turned his serious eyes to Shane, then back to Rick. "You two listening? Good. I'm going to kill Carl now. I'm gonna make it one nice, hard swing, try to do it in one because I like him. I want you to put that in your brain and roll it around for a minute. Now, Dickhead. After I kill Carl, Lucille here? Is gonna take Rick's hands. You? You will come back with us. You will rot in the cell until the end of time, or at least until my baby is born." 

Shane glared harder, wordless, when Negan smiled at him. That only made Negan's smile grow. 

"See, I know my Slugger- yes, my Slugger- isn't supposed to be able to have kids, so I won't risk her losing my baby because of the shock of seeing your reanimated corpse, but once my little son or daughter is in this world breathing on its own, I am going to string you up in the middle of my courtyard and use you as a pet and maybe as a punching bag if I feel the need. You don't survive this, Dickhead. Not this time."

"Fuck right off, asshole," Shane said in as bored a voice as he could manage. 

Negan laughed, head back and full. "Oh, I do like you. I like you and the kid both, and I almost like you, Rick. You thought about it enough? You ready for what's coming?" 

"You can do it right in front of me," Rick said softly. "You can take my hands. You can take Shane. I told you already-- I'm gonna kill you. All of you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… But nothing is gonna change that. Nothing." 

Shane believed he would. That was Rick Grimes at his crazy, animal worst, or maybe his best. Shane honestly wasn't sure, but he knew a promise from the man he'd known since childhood, and Rick would. 

He'd do it with his fucking teeth if he didn't have hands. 

Rick leaned closer, whispering now. "You're all already dead." 

From the look on his face, Negan believed Rick too. He glared hard, rage filling his eyes as his mouth contorted in tiny motions, and then he smiled. He smiled, and he laughed. "Damn. Wow, Rick. Okay." 

Negan shot to his feet and slung Lucille up to his shoulder, taking the hat from Carl's head as he stepped around behind the kid. 

"You said I could do it!" 

Shane glanced up when Rick and Lori came in, waving his soda in greeting before going back to staring at the game on tv. He didn’t try to sit up- he couldn’t, after all- and Rick stared down in amusement at him sprawled over their couch. Lor had waved back and headed straight for the staircase, probably to go change from her fancy dress into comfortable clothes again. 

“There a reason that baby isn’t in his crib?” Rick asked softly. 

Shane rubbed a hand over Carl’s tiny head, tucking his chin to look at the baby currently sacked out on his chest. He shrugged and took a drink. “He was fussin’. Fell asleep on me, and I was watching the game, so I just let him stay.” 

“Big softie,” Rick accused mildly. 

Shane just shrugged again. He didn’t mind. Carl was warm and cuddly, and he’d been real fucking loud until Shane had given up and brought him back downstairs to hang. “He likes baseball.” 

“Who doesn’t?” Rick agreed, rounding the couch to collapse into the chair. “Share the pretzels.” 

“Came from your cabinet, man. How was dinner?” 

Rick grunted. “It was nice. Good to feel like people, not just parents. Thanks for watching him.” 

“Anytime, brother. Seriously. He’s my little buddy. We’ll go cruisin’ for chicks in no time,” Shane teased, reaching a hand up protectively when Carl moved. 

Rick rolled his eyes and grabbed another pretzel, and they settled into silence. 

Lori woke them both up an hour later, saying Carl would need to eat. About two seconds after that, Carl started to cry. 

Shane wanted to close his eyes, wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Negan's face contorted and time slowed down for Shane. He saw every change in the man's expression, in the tightness of his hands on the bat-

And then, out of nowhere, Ace was just there. 

She stood between Negan and Carl, gun in her hands, and Shane blinked twice to make sure he was really fucking seeing her, because- how? Where the hell had she come from? 

Then the fucking tiger launched itself at one of Negan's goons, and everyone- including Negan and maybe even Shane himself, he wasn't sure- was screaming. 

Shane should have been worried about things like what the hell had just happened and if the tiger was coming for them next, but he wasn't. As Simon and Dwight pulled Negan away, Shane shot to his feet, grabbed Slugger, and spun her around to check her over rapidly. 

"Are you ok? Slugger, are you-" 

"Damn it, Dickhead, there is a battle going on!" she yelled at him, leaning around to fire at Negan's retreating back. "And that bastard is getting away!" 

He heard, dimly, Ezekiel yelling something that sounded vaguely Shakespearean. He saw Carol, and Jerry, and men and women on horseback. He saw Daryl and Maggie and Jesus and everyone from Hilltop, making their way up the road. 

Shane wasn't really thinking about that, though. 

She'd called him Dickhead.


	40. Lie #40: "I Am Pissed." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> mentions of past child abuse  
> mentions of past domestic violence/abuse  
> mentions of past miscarriage/pregnancy loss

Negan got away. Dwight, Simon, most of the garbage fuckers, including Jadis- they all slipped through the cracks. Cockroaches always survived. Shane knew he'd be mad about that later, but right now, he couldn't much bring himself to care. 

Somewhere in the mess, he and Slugger had gotten separated, and Slugger'd been hurt. 

She was glued to her brother's side, standing at the foot of the garbage truck he'd climbed up on when the gate had been jammed by the garbage people's retreat, but Shane could see the pinched look in her eyes that meant something hurt and she didn't want to show it. He could see the tightness in her jaw and around the corners of her mouth, and he slung his gun over his back, pointed at Maggie with a raise of his eyebrows and got her soft smile and nod in return, and strode right over to Ace. 

Fuck whatever she'd said about them being through. Fuck Negan and her being pregnant, because Shane knew without a doubt that's what all that nonsense before had been about, and Mary, Joseph, and the fucking camel, he did not give two solitary shits. Hell, he didn't give one shit. 

So what if it was Negan's fucking baby? She'd stood by him while Lori carried his, and he fought for his right to Judy. She loved that little girl as much as Shane did, and she what? Thought he'd tell her to fuck off if he knew she was pregnant? Shit.

She was hurt, and he could see by the way she spoke low and without really looking at her brother that Daryl fucking knew it too. He scowled at her, she shot a look his way and smiled through clenched teeth, and Daryl's scowl got bigger. 

Then Dixon saw Shane. He tossed hair from his face and shrugged, and Shane was close enough to catch what he said. 

"Fine, but I ain't the only one ya gonna have to convince. Ya cop looks pissed." 

"I am pissed," Shane snapped before she could say anything. Like 'he's not my cop'. "Slugger, what hurts? And don't try to pretend nothing does. I know you too well, sweetheart." 

Her eyes flashed when she turned to him, and Shane could have smiled just from that. She'd been so fucking guarded. The anger in her eyes was better than that controlled aloofness she'd held herself to just this morning, in the kitchen. If she was pissed and pissy with him, it was only a matter of time before she talked to him, and they fixed whatever was fucked. 

"I'm fine, damn it. It's nothing." 

Shane gestured impatiently. "Alright then, let's see it." 

"No," she muttered, eyes shifting from his. "I'm fine. We need to see to the dead, and the wounded. Is there anyone resembling a doctor here, or is it just whoever can put in a stitch without royally fucking it up?" 

"Walsh?" Dixon muttered, eyes on the chaos all around. 

Shane grunted in response and grabbed her hand. "I got it," he said, tugging insistently. 

She planted her feet and pulled back, protesting, but Shane didn't let her go. He gentled his grip on her hand and stepped closer instead, softening his voice as well. He'd never forget that his Slugger had been forced into more things in her life than he wanted to think about, and he wouldn't be the one who added to it. 

But he was going to take care of her, goddamn it, and she was going to let him. 

"Slugger, please. I can see it in your eyes. If you won't come with me, go with your brother," he whispered. 

He watched her struggle, watched the whole internal conflict cross her face before she sighed, shoved her hand through her hair, and handed the rifle on her shoulder to Dixon. 

"Good choice, sis. Talk to him," Daryl muttered with a pointed jerk of his head. He kissed her cheek and she rolled her eyes, starting for their house without really looking at Shane again. 

Shane followed, because this was better progress than he'd had so far. And she'd called him Dickhead. 

"Hey, Walsh." 

Shane paused and lifted his eyebrows. 

Daryl tossed hair from his eyes and squinted beyond Shane, then slung Ace's rifle over his shoulder and nodded once. "Mess her up, I'll mess up your face." 

"Aren't we a little past all that, man?" Shane shot back. "I already told you. I mess her up, I'll let you. Get yourself checked out too. Your arm's bleeding." 

Daryl scoffed dismissively and gestured in Ace's direction. "Go. We gonna chat later, though." 

Somehow Shane was unsurprised by that. 

He ran into Rick and Carl on the way, heading toward the lookout building with grim eyes. Shane considered ordering Rick to get that damn side looked at, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. They had to know if it had been Michonne who fell, and Shane wouldn't have been able to wait either, if he was in their shoes. Hell, he wasn't waiting, cleanup, triage, and everything else be damned.

He squeezed Carl's shoulder in passing instead, and jogged the rest of the way to his house. 

He found her standing completely still in the middle of the kitchen, bulletproof vest clutched in front of her so tightly the veins in her hands stood out blue against the white. Her eyes were wide and blank and Shane was transported in an instant back to a little tent in a quarry outside Atlanta, when she'd taken a punch from goddamn Ed Peletier and gotten right back up, only to fall apart as soon as he got her out of sight of everyone else. 

Shit, he thought, and rounded the counter slowly. "Slugger?" 

She didn't so much as twitch, but her eyes dropped closed and Shane thought her hands might have tightened on that damn vest even more. He hesitated, like he had in the quarry, wondering what the right thing to do here was. 

He knew more now. He knew all about that time her sorry excuse for a father had almost killed her firing a shotgun off drunk. He knew all about Malcolm fucking Hall and his fickle artist's temper. He knew about that scar down Slugger's back and her taking a frying pan to her dad's head and how close Daryl had come to getting killed that day too; how it had scarred so badly because Daryl'd patched her up with one eye swollen completely closed and the other pretty fucking close. He knew about the smaller, almost invisible scar on her side where that cockroach Hall had stabbed her with part of her coffee table, the same coffee table Shane had propped his feet on a thousand times and watched her paint until sunrise glowed in the sky. 

He knew that if she wasn't told to take a break, that eye that fucking Hall had broken after the world ended would give her a headache when she painted too long. He knew she'd rather face a herd of hungry walkers than talk about the night she lost that baby when she was a teenager, but that her whole face would shine with gratitude and adoration when talking about how her brothers had helped her through it. He knew the loss of her mother still stung, a wistful what-if she rarely even acknowledged.

And he knew the good things, too. The happy things. 

He knew she loved music- and books and movies- so goddamn sweet it gave him a cavity and a stomach ulcer almost instantly. He knew the look on her face when she was staring at art she really, truly loved. He knew the sound of her laugh when she was really entertained; the way she flipped her hair when she was flirting. He knew the dazzled look in her eyes when he grabbed some simple little flower, hardly more than a weed, from a field and handed it to her. 

He knew how her voice sounded when she was right on the edge of being lost in a piece of art and he could say just about anything he wanted to her and she wouldn't really remember, but she'd mention it later with confusion in her voice over how she knew that. He knew the grace in her movements when she painted, the confidence when she tended bar. He knew her accent came out when she was exhausted, lazy slow drawl at three am while she kept him company as he fed Judith. 

He knew her, inside and out, good and bad. He knew she might take a swing at him if he touched her right now. 

He knew she'd cling to him and fall apart like she so badly needed to if he did it anyway. 

"Hey. Sweetheart," he whispered, and took the vest from her hands. He laid it on the counter as she kept herself so still, then did what he knew she needed and wrapped his arms around her. She started to melt in, and he could feel her trembling. 

Then all at once, she pulled away, pressing her hands to her face and shaking her head rapidly in mute refusal as the tears started. 

"Why the hell not? Daryl would say you need to blubber. I'm here; blubber away," he demanded, trying to make it a joke even though he knew it wasn't. She needed to collapse. She needed to let it all out, and by god she needed him. He was right here. All it would take was her realizing that, and- and everything would be fine. 

She shook her head again and added a step backward as Shane shoved a hand through his hair and tried not to get pissed off. "I can't." 

She'd been traumatized, again, he reminded himself sternly. He didn't even know what all that bastard had done to her. He could guess a few things, what with his insinuations, her declaration in this very room, and the fact that she was pregnant, but he didn't know how bad yet. 

From how she was reacting, he was going to say it had been bad. 

"Why not?" he asked, keeping his voice calm and controlled with difficulty. "I'm here; I'm offering. I've been your shoulder for years, girl, even before we were us." 

"You know why!" The words exploded from her, her spine suddenly snapping straight and her eyes flashing angry, sparkling Dixon blue. "You heard him! You know what- what I did!" 

"Darlin', you didn’t make that baby by yourself, and I'm willing to bet a whole lot on the fact that you didn't enjoy the experience anyway," he snarled, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from clenching them into fists. 

She shrugged. "No, I didn't. It wasn't the worst I've ever lived through and Negan would certainly think it was the best I'd ever had, but I was far from enjoying it. What does that have to do with anything? I still did it, and I'm- I'm- Shane, I'm sorry. I'm so- I'm so sorry." 

"Shut up, damn it," he said wearily. "I'm getting real tired of you apologizing to me for shit you don't have to be sorry for." 

"But I do," she whispered, eyes filling again. "I- I do. Shane- I was trying to save Merle. And I knew as soon as I did it that it was over. I mean, shit. You forgave me for Mal-" 

"Slugger, I swear-" Pure rage shot through him, hot and cold all at once, and he closed his eyes as he struggled to reign it in. "Do not. You were beat to shit, baby. He assaulted you, in all ways. You did what we said. Just like this time. You did whatever it took to get back to me. That's the right choice, Ace, always. You think I'm mad about any of it?" 

"No," she admitted in a tiny voice. "But I am. Shane, you might forgive me, but I don't forgive myself, and you sure as hell deserve better than some white trash slut who rolls over and spreads it just to stay alive." 

His eyes shot open and he crossed the room to her without thinking. She stared down at her feet as he got all up in her space, and he was so incredibly angry, more than he could remember ever being before. Which, considering Shane knew himself to be made of rage and violence and bloodstains, was saying a hell of a lot. 

But not at her. Never at her. When he took her face in his hands, they shook, but they were gentle. 

"You listen to me, Slugger," he whispered, turning her face up until she finally met his eyes. "You have never been white trash a day in your life. I don't care how bad your accent gets when you're pissed or when you're tired. I don't care where you come from, who or what your father was. People aren't trash, sweetheart. None of them, but especially you. You've got the biggest damn heart I've ever seen." 

She shook her head, still held in his hands, and started to speak, but Shane wasn't done. 

"Stop. You said your bit, now it's my turn. You think I don't know where those words come from? You think I don't know where your head's at these days? I do. I know you, Ace Dixon, and I know when you're not thinking like yourself. But if you wanna talk about who deserves what, then we will," he whispered. 

She huffed, shifted like she was going to pull away. He held her in place, swiping his thumbs under her eyes to brush away the fresh tears that had trickled down. 

"Now. You think you deserve the man who knocked up his best friend's wife? The man who sacrificed a living, breathing, decent human being to keep his own ass alive? The man who played cat-and-mouse with that bastard who abused you instead of just ending it, so you had to do it later? And that's just the beginning of the list. No, darlin'. You don't. We aren't perfect, neither of us. So before you go thinking I've got you on some pedestal and can't see your flaws, I can. But, Slugger, listen to me." 

He waited until she sniffed and finally met his eyes again. He offered her a crooked, watery smile of his own. 

"I love the shit out of you anyway. I'll do whatever it takes to get back to you, sweetheart. And you made me a promise to do the same. Now think on that promise, and decide if you think I'm the kind of man who'd hold the method you used against you," he whispered. He brushed his lips to hers, because they were there and he'd missed her so goddamn much, and hell, she needed it just as badly as he did. 

And she started sobbing. 

Shane gathered her closed, stroked her hair, and finally carried her to the couch so she could cry until she slept. When she did, he found the graze on her leg and cleaned it up, rolling his eyes down at her exhausted face and muttering about her being as much of a dumbass as her brothers and Rick. 

Then he covered her with a blanket and dropped into the chair to watch her sleep.


	41. Lie #41: "There's Nothing To Talk About. It's Over." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

You opened your eyes and your art stared back at you. 

For a heart-stopping second, you had absolutely no clue where you were. The Atlanta skyline greeted you, and you thought 'home'. But the colors weren't right and- 

When it clicked, you closed your eyes as they prickled with heat. Damn it, you'd cried enough last night, you had no desire to do so more. Especially over something as simple as waking up in the living room of the house you shared with Daryl and Shane. 

It slammed into you again, full force, how much you missed Merle. You hadn't been into his room since you'd gotten back- hell, you hadn't been into your room since you'd gotten back- and what should have felt like coming home felt like stepping into the shoes of a stranger. 

All you'd wanted, the whole time you were with Negan, was to be back here. You'd wanted to be listening to your dumbass brothers bicker and rolling your eyes at Shane before trying to defuse the argument. You'd wanted Judy happily banging pot lids together while you complained to her in a bright, playful voice about having to take care of men and she laughed at the faces you made cooking dinner. 

You hated the silence, suddenly and completely. When Merle was around, things were never silent. Well, except in the woods when he was trying to shoot something, but still. 

You pulled yourself up restlessly, noticing the bandage in place on the totally minor graze on your leg and sighed. Dickhead, you thought fondly, and another wave of guilt rocked you. 

He shouldn't have found out like that. Damn Negan. You should have known he wouldn't leave that out. You should have known he'd make it hard. 

You didn't know if the kid was responding to your thought process or what, but you grimaced and darted for the bathroom. Fucking morning sickness was killing you, and you couldn't wait to be over this part. 

"Ya aight, sis?" 

Daryl's voice sounded odd with your head halfway in the toilet, but maybe that was just you. You flashed him a thumbs up as your stomach heaved again, and he made some noise, ran some water, and laid a cold washcloth over the back of your neck. 

When he rubbed your back in sympathy at the next wave, settling down beside you, you groaned. "You don't have to stay in here. I'll be done in a bit." 

"Don't mind. Sounds rough." 

"I think death might be nicer, to be honest," you muttered, knowing damn well you didn't mean it. 

He scoffed and flipped the washcloth over. You had to admit, it felt good. "Been bad? Don't remember much of this, from- from before." 

Not talking about that first pregnancy was so ingrained in you all, you thought at the way his voice hitched. You'd done your best to pretend it never happened, and you'd succeeded. You turned and leaned your cheek against the toilet seat- probably not the best idea you'd ever had, considering how long it had been since you'd been here to clean it, and honestly, had either of them even thought of that?- to offer him a weak smile. 

"Yeah. Don't think it was this bad. Then again, I've tried to forget most of that," you admitted. 

He nodded. "I know." 

"I miss Merle." 

His gaze dropped to where he was picking at his thumbnail, eyes sad. "Yeah. Me too." 

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep him alive," you whispered. 

"Shut the hell up, sis." 

It was delivered mildly, no bite to it, as he tipped his head back against the sink and shot you a look. You glared back, finally deciding the kid was done emptying your stomach of all the contents it didn't have to spare, and flushed. You eased back against the wall, Darrie's cold washcloth in your hands now, and pondered leaving the bathroom. It'd be more comfortable than the floor. 

"No, I am. I know it's not- I mean, it's slightly my fault, we were in the craft store when shit hit, but I tried. I did everything I could, and he still just- he just died. He cut off his own damn hand and lived, but he didn't make it though a broken leg and a cut on his side, and for some reason, that just feels so- so-" You cut off as your eyes filled, and you gestured helplessly. 

Daryl nodded. "So wrong. I know. Wanna blubber some?" 

"Shut up," you muttered, swiping at your eyes. "No. I blubbered enough on Shane last night." 

"Wanna talk about that?" 

You snorted and climbed to your feet. "Hell no. There's nothing to talk about. It's over. It sucks, but it is." 

"You and the cop? Never," Daryl disagreed. He stood as well, grabbing your hand when you started to pass him. "Sis, listen-" 

"Darrie, I can't talk about it. I don't wanna cry anymore. I wanna do somethin', something to help clean up or help take Negan down. Please," you whispered. "I can't talk about it- Shane, Merle, any of it. It all hurts." 

He chewed on his thumbnail, looking like he wanted to argue, but finally he nodded. "Change ya mind…" 

"I know where to find you if I need to blubber." You rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Darrie." 

"Stop fuckin' callin' me that. Wanna go to Rick's? Big planning session this mornin'. Walsh is already there, so's everyone else. Ya can meet Ezekiel." 

"He the one with the tiger?" you asked intensely.

Daryl flashed you a grin that looked a lot like yours when you had a bad idea. "Shiva. Yeah." 

"Let's go." 

Rick's was loud. Louder than you thought it ever had been, including last time Carl and Merle had been playing poker, Judy'd been cutting molars, and Rick and Dickhead had gotten in a shouting match over some old case they each swore the other one had fucked up. 

Today, the kitchen and dining room were full to overwhelming, everyone talking at once, and so many people you knew and cared about that you didn't fucking know where to look first. Your eyes roamed over the cacophony of faces and voices, jumping from person to person, and you could feel yourself start to tear up. 

"Ya aight?" Daryl whispered, his hand warm against your back. 

You swallowed hard and nodded. "Just- all of them. There's- everyone." 

"And ya thought you wouldn't see none of 'em again, and now they're all in one room and yellin'." 

You leaned against his side for a minute. Of course Darrie got it. Hell, he probably got it better than you, after being locked in that goddamn cell. And he'd seen it all first-hand, that night. "Yeah," you whispered. 

Then Maggie noticed you, and her whole face lit up. "Ace!" 

Carol broke off from talking to- well, you weren't sure who that was, but based on the bodyguard with the honest-to-god battleax and the robes, you were guessing Ezekiel, self-styled king and tiger owner. 

"There's just- I can't even," you whispered as you stared. "I need my sketchbook. Fuck planning. I need to draw." 

Shane's laugh was low and familiar behind you, and you almost leaned back into him when he ran a hand down your back in a move you'd felt and enjoyed a thousand times. You glanced at him, smile on your lips, and you remembered. 

The smile slid away and so did your eyes. 

You caught his small sigh, but the amusement never left his voice when he whispered in your ear. "There's a notepad on the table at your spot already. Now that these two are here," he continued to the room at large, "we can actually get started." 

"Oh, hold on a minute, Shane," Carol disagreed. "Some of us haven't had a chance to catch up. Ace." 

You smiled when she came toward you, arms out, and you leaned into her hug happily. "I missed you. Are you ok?" 

"Some days," she said lightly, letting you go. "We'll talk later." 

"My turn!" Maggie declared, and you couldn't meet her eyes even as she swept you up. 

Daryl brushed your arm as he and Shane went around you to head to the table. The others were already taking their seats, conversations continuing all around, and you hugged Maggie and tried not to cry. 

Your fault. Thank god she and the baby were ok, but Glenn was your fault. You'd been given three people to save, and you'd been so goddamn selfish, and- 

"Don't," Maggie whispered in your ear. "You and Daryl, just alike. I can feel you bein' all guilty. Don't. You Dixons, you're some of the good things in this world. Glenn said so. I already told your brother it's not his fault, and it's not yours either." 

You sniffed as she pulled back and gave you a soft smile. "Damn it, Maggie." 

"He said about the same thing." 

That got you to crack a grin, and you dashed a tear from your cheek. "I'm pregnant." 

"I know. We all know. We won't be far apart," she said with a bright, if slightly brittle, smile. "I'm glad. It's scary, on your own. At least we'll have each other to complain to and figure things out with." 

Your eyes filled again. She was happy. She was happy for you, when she'd lost her husband and the man who'd killed him had knocked you up, and- "Maggie, it's-" 

"It's yours," she interrupted firmly. "And that's what matters. Come on, we better get planning with the rest of them. But you and I are going to sit down and complain about nausea and everything else later, ok?" 

You didn't even have time to protest before she steered you to your spot, tucked between Shane and Daryl. You looked down at the notepad, sure enough, in place in front of you with two pencils and a sharpener, and your vision blurred with tears for the billionth time. Goddamn hormones. 

Shane covered your hand with his and squeezed lightly as Rick started talking to everyone. You stared at his hand over yours and didn't move it away.

"No." 

"Come on, Dickhead, it's not that bad," you said with a grin, tossing your paint bag over the side of the fire escape. "Just drop and roll. You'll be fine." 

Shane looked at you like you were insane. "No, Slugger. I said no, and I meant no." 

You sighed and climbed down onto the first rung of the ladder, then extended your hand solemnly. "Do you trust me?" 

He glared harder, but took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "I have no idea why, since you get me into this shit, but yes. But come on, there's got to be a better way!" 

"Of course there is," you agreed cheerfully. "This one's more fun though. Just drop and roll!" 

You let go of his hand to follow your own advice, laughing at his expression as you went. 

"Look, I hate him. I hate him almost as much as Darrie does," you said intensely, leaning forward across the table to stare at everyone in turn. 

Daryl snorted, and you glared over Shane to him. 

"He tortured you! Of course I fuckin' hate him," you snapped. 

"Then why the hell ya defendin' him?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Because, Darlene, he also helped me get out! He was only there for Sherry. Sherry booked it and D had enough. He didn’t know about Jadis. I'd stand by that, with or without his army man message," you added firmly, nodding at the carved figure in the middle of the table. 

Darrie had tossed it down with disgust, kicking off this particular branch of the strategy session. He'd found it in the gate, with "didn't know" written on its back. Daryl didn't believe him, and Rick's suggestion that you involve Dwight again was being met with resistance. 

It'd been enough to bring you out of the drawing haze you'd gone into, sketching all these wild characters as they argued and planned. 

Jesus with his long hair and always-calm expression, sitting beside Maggie- farmer's daughter beautiful, eyes so serious as she spoke. Ezekiel, just as crazy as you'd been anticipating with his Shakespearean drama speeches, the hair, the robes. Jerry, who you'd determined to be a giant teddy bear of a man despite the battleax, and seemed to be part bodyguard and part court jester. Carol looking mildly harassed any time either of them spoke. Morgan with his zen so clearly disturbed and a plethora of trauma in his eyes, so strongly apparent you wondered how the man was walking and talking. Tara, Enid, Aaron, Rosita, Carl, Rick, Shane, Darrie, so familiar but in this motley crew they were each such unique characters themselves. And Michonne. 

Your eyes lingered on Michonne now, knowing from experience how that shit felt. Her face was black and blue and swollen, and there were bruises around her neck as well. She'd been choked and taken a beating, a bad one, but she'd survived. She'd pitched her opponent over the edge of the building, like the badass she was. 

Rosita had been shot, a through-and-through to the shoulder, and it hadn't improved her sunny disposition any. Many of the others had died, people you knew or half-knew, and so had a shit load of Negan's people. You wondered if you'd have recognized any of them, too, had the others not cleared all the bodies from the streets while you were having your meltdown the night before.

And Sasha had died, in the coffin, and almost succeeded in taking Negan out with her. God, you wished she'd gotten in one good bite. 

"Shit, she busted out a girl's name, Dixon," Shane muttered. "She's serious." 

"Shut up, Dickhead," you snapped, rolling your eyes. "I am serious. He risked a lot to come here. Maybe if he hadn't brought me along, he could have played it if he got caught by Negan. But the minute he told me how to get out, he damned himself. And he knew how y'all would- rightfully- react. He knew. Why would he have done it if all he was doing was settin' us up for a double cross?" 

"'Us'?" Rosita mumbled. 

Shane was halfway out of his chair when you grabbed his arm. "Sit down, Shane." 

"Ace is one of us," Rick said firmly. "She always has been, and she always will be." 

That was enough to make you tear up, and you smiled at him and mouthed 'thank you'. 

"But Dwight isn't!" Tara snapped, D's name coming out the way Shane used to say Mal's. "Why should we trust him again?" 

All eyes turned to you, like everyone was waiting for your answer. You shrugged. "We shouldn't. But we should use him again." 

Shane's grin was slow and as a wicked as yours. "That's my Slugger." 

The smile disappeared immediately, and you turned back to your notepad without another word.


	42. Lie #42: "He Wasn't Yours Anymore." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> angstttttt but yall knew that   
> mentions of torture/psychological torture

A plan was, blessedly, devised. Honestly, it managed to somehow be both complicated and simple all at once, and you had to give your bizarre group of movers and shakers some credit there. Work began immediately, and you were just as immediately informed you would be doing little to none of it. 

You had serious objections. As usual, they were over ruled. Two days in, you were bored as hell. 

You ended up over at Hilltop, catching a ride with Tara as she ran between places to check on things. She frowned at you when you swung into her car, but she didn't tell you to get out. Someone- probably your brother or Shane, who was apparently back to believing you were some fragile wilting flower who needed rescuing all the damn time- would yell at you later, but you had to get the hell out of there. Maybe Tara recognized the mutinous look in your eyes, because she made cheerful small talk and offered a heartfelt condolences for Merle that had you tearing up even as you mumbled something back. 

She and Glenn and Merle had gotten out together, after all. That was how she'd joined you. 

Now you were pestering the blacksmith to teach you how to do the blacksmithing. The most preparation for the big plan was turning a fleet of vehicles into apocalypse armored cars, with sheet metal and spikes coming out of each one. Frankly, they were horrifying Frankenstein's-monster beasts, but it would be effective. Rick continued to amaze with his ability to do practically anything. You should probably be trying to help, even though absolutely none of these people would let you.

You just wanted to play with the anvil and the liquid metal. 

"Ace, will you leave Eduardo alone?" 

You offered the ever-patient Eduardo a sheepish smile. "Oops. Sorry." 

He waved that off, but you still turned to Maggie with an apologetic look and hunched shoulders. She and Jesus were amused as hell, and you ducked from the forge to join them as they wandered toward the stately old colonial you still wanted to paint. 

"Sorry, Mags. I'm bored," you complained, kicking at the ground lightly. 

"Won't let you do anything, will they?" 

You sighed and made a face. "Yeah. And I mean, I get it. I am one of them; they don't want me all up in the plan." 

"That's not what it is and you know it," Jesus said mildly. "Maggie, I'm going to go check on the inventory Carol sent over. Make sure the cellar is getting organized properly." 

Maggie nodded and Jesus touched your shoulder as he left. Maggie sighed when you went back to staring at the ground, steering you over toward a picnic table outside the FEMA trailers. "Ace."

You shrugged, but leaned on the table when she boosted up to sit on it. "Well?" 

"Rick wouldn't let him leave." 

Ok, that was confusing. You eyed her, but she was staring out over Hilltop, bustling with activity. With the beginnings of war. "Rick wouldn't let who leave?" 

"Shane. When Daryl and Rosita came back with Eugene and Abraham, after Denise- Shane was so angry. So was Daryl. They almost came to blows over you and Merle not being with him. And then Rick wouldn't let him leave, to go find you. Said it was too dangerous, 'cause we didn't know how many of them were out there, and we needed everyone home in case they attacked." She rubbed a hand over her stomach and sighed. "He and Rick actually did fight. Rick knocked him out with the Python, locked Shane in the cell." 

"Jesus, Dickhead," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "He shouldn't have come looking. We were picked up that day. He'd have just gotten picked up too." 

"We know that now. They didn't at the time. He and Daryl left together. Michonne, Rosita, and- and Glenn all followed, to try to bring them back. None of them came back. Then we discovered Carol was missing, and Rick and Morgan went to find her. Rick came back with Shane, but no Carol or Morgan, and the others were still gone." Maggie fell silent, and you watched her face. 

She looked over at you, tears in her eyes. "Then the baby- Dr. Harlan, he said something about- the placenta? It's ok now, but at the time I thought I was dyin' and the baby with me." 

"I'm so sorry," you whispered around the rawness of your throat. "Maggie, I am so sorry." 

"Why are you apologizing to me?" 

You huffed out something resembling a bitter laugh. "He told me to pick three names, and they'd be safe. I was selfish, and Glenn- Glenn." 

"Ace," Maggie whispered. "How else were you supposed to make a choice like that, but selfishly? I don't blame you. Or your brother, though he blames himself. Glenn- Glenn was Negan's fault. Not yours. None of it is yours." 

You shook your head and shoved a hand through your hair. "I just rattled them off, no thought. Darrie, Dickhead, Rick. I wasn't thinking. He wouldn't have killed Rick anyway. I should have thought of you, of your family. I should have kept Glenn safe for you. You need him. You're going to have a baby. You need him." 

Maggie slid off the table and pulled you into a hug. "I do need him, yes. But I've got all of you. I'm not alone, and neither are you, Ace. Talk to him." 

She squeezed your hand as one of her people called her name. When she walked away, back straight and head high, you wondered how the fuck she could be so strong. 

You were actually considering taking Maggie's advice. You missed Shane. You missed your best friend more than anything else, and this thing where you lived in the same house without having even that was killing you. 

Not that Shane acted like it was gone. He was exactly the same as always, to the point of utterly infuriating you. He acted like you weren't pregnant with Negan's baby, even when he was hovering because you were. It was strange. Hell, he'd held your hair back when you were puking that morning, making sympathetic noises and asking if you needed anything. 

You didn't get it, and you were going to have a talk with him. 

Then you pulled through the gate, Tara parked, and you turned to thank her- and your door was wrenched open so hard it practically came off in his hand. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Slugger?" Shane demanded. 

You automatically took the hand he extended to help you out as Tara beat a hasty retreat with a wave and a 'catch you later'. You glared at Shane and lifted your eyebrows. "I went over to Hilltop for awhile." 

"You didn't fuckin' tell me or your brother!" 

"I'm sorry; I wasn't aware I needed a babysitter," you said slowly, holding onto your temper by a thread. How dare he? How dare he act like you couldn't fucking handle yourself or make your own decisions? 

He scoffed and shoved a hand through his hair, in that weird in-between stage between the buzz cut and his riot of curls. "Just thought maybe you'd wanna check in before you leave the town, that's all. You shouldn't be leavin' in the first place. You're staying here for the attack." 

"Oh, am I?" you said softly, eyes narrowing. You stepped up into his space as he planted his hands on his hips and gave you that look. 

He always talked about Rick's stubborn bastard expression, but Shane Walsh had one of his own. You didn't much care for it. 

"What the hell makes you think I'll be doin' that, Shanizzle?" you hissed, voice low and deadly. 

"Call me all the girl names you want, sweetheart, but I'll still be right," he snapped back. 

You scoffed and started to turn away, and Shane grabbed your arm. You glared at his hand, gentle but firm and warm on your wrist, and then back up at him. 

He snorted. "Don't. I know when you're scared, and you're not." 

"Of course I'm not scared. I've never been scared of you," you muttered. "I'm annoyed. I'm pissed. I'm not staying here, damn it. I'm going with you guys. I'm doing my part. So fucking let me go!" 

"Ace, sweetheart, you're pregnant. You have to keep the baby safe, as well as yourself," Shane said, so calm and reasonable it stopped you dead in your attempts to pull out of his grasp. 

You stared at him. What the fuck? What the fuck did he care about the baby? Negan's fucking demonspawn, the reason the best thing in your life was over, and- 

The words boiled out, vicious and mean and sounding way too much like Will to make you happy. "What the fuck do you care? It's not your fuckin' baby, Dickhead." 

Something moved in his eyes, and you didn't know what it was. He brushed his fingers along your cheek, but you jerked away from his touch, so he let his hand slowly fall as he sighed. 

"Maybe not, but you're my everything, Slugger," he said softly. "I don't care whose it is. It's yours, so I love it. 'Cause I love you." 

You turned and walked away without a word, and he let you. 

You didn't know where you were going, because if you were looking to get away from Shane- which you were- home was a bad idea. He lived there, after all. 

Luckily, you didn't have to think about it very hard, because Daryl pulled his bike up beside you and tilted his head. "Hey." 

"Hey," you echoed. 

"Where ya been?" 

You actually did feel a stir of guilt, because you should have told him you were going. Not to ask permission, but because, you know, he cared. You scuffed your sneaker on the ground and shrugged. "Hilltop. What are you doing?" 

"Gonna go pass a message to that motherfucker you like so much," he said, tossing his chin in the general direction of 'not here'. 

You blinked, confused. "Who? Oh. Dwight. You do get that it's not that I like him. I just think he can be useful."

Daryl shifted the crossbow on his back. "Whatever." 

"Want company?" He was lingering, looking like he didn't want to leave, and honestly, you didn't want to be here. You'd rather ride with your twin back to the Sanctuary than hear Shane say he loved you again. 

Darrie's lips turned up, just a touch, and he grabbed the handlebars as he jerked his head. "Hop on." 

"Shane's going to be mad at you." It was only fair to warn him, after all, you thought as you settled in behind him. You took the crossbow automatically, tossing it over your own shoulder, and wrapped your arms around him. 

Darrie gunned the throttle and took off like a shot, and you couldn't help the grin. Seems he was just as restless as you were, and you rocketed through the gate with a wave to Aaron. 

Darrie slowed down almost immediately and shrugged as you rested your chin on his shoulder. "Won't be the first time ya cop's pissed at me. Cover us." 

"Duh," you declared, boredom dripping from your tone. You chose to ignore 'your cop'. He wasn't yours anymore, and you didn't understand why you were the only one who could see that. 

You stared at the Sanctuary and watched Daryl's back. You got lucky, and D was working on a bike in the courtyard, alone. 

You got more satisfaction from how high D jumped when Darrie's bolt landed in the wheel beside him than you probably should have. 

He scribbled on a piece of a paper for a long time, long enough for your shoulders to start to get tight with anxiety and Daryl to get twitchy. Then Dwight fired a bolt back, and you rolled your eyes at how far away it landed. 

"He's even worse with that than I am," you whispered. 

Daryl snorted as he pried the bolt free and grabbed the paper wrapped around it. "Yeah. Let's get the fuck outta here to read this, aight?" 

"Agreed," you muttered. You wanted to get far, far away from this place. 

"So," Darrie said about halfway home.

You'd been riding in comfortable silence, your cheek against his shoulder as you watched the trees slide by. His tone had you sitting up and eyeing the back of his head in suspicion. "So?" 

"Ya ready to talk about Walsh yet?" 

You leaned back against him and didn't bother to dignify that with a response. He didn't say anything else, and the trees began to blur by again. 

"Look, it ain't my business, except ya my sister an' I love ya and all. So for the damn record, I think ya bein' an idiot. He's nuts about ya and always has been. At least stop giving him the cold shoulder. Ya need some time, that's fine. But he's ya friend, sis, and I know ya miss him." 

"You been reading self-help books again?" you muttered, grumpy at having your own thoughts repeated to you. By Daryl, of all people. The only thing weirder would have been Merle saying them. 

The fact that you knew damn well he would be saying it was irrelevant, in your opinion. 

Daryl snorted. "Naw. Just have eyes." 

You decided a change in subject was in order. "I have those, too. Are you ok?" 

"Fuck ya mean?" 

"You, dumbass," you said, poking him lightly in the side. He jerked, trying to get away from you. "Negan. Cell. You were beat up; I couldn't even ask if you were ok; then you were gone. Are you?" 

"Am I what? Stop that before ya make me wreck this damn bike!" 

You stopped poking him and put your chin on his shoulder again. "Fine. I'm being serious, Darrie. I was worried about you. Are you ok? D was- I heard some things. I know it was bad. If you need to talk…" 

"What, like you talk? Naw, I'm fine. I don't need to blubber on ya or nothin'," he muttered. 

You heard the edge in his voice and sighed. "Dar-" 

"It was bad," he said softly. He slowed the bike, finally stopping completely. You braced it up with your legs automatically, but didn't let go of your brother. 

He shifted a little, picking at his thumbnail, and didn't try to shrug you off. "Locked me in the cell. Couldn't get no fuckin' sleep, cause of that- that song. Easy fuckin' Street. The dog food sandwiches. Got hit if I didn't eat 'em." 

"Fucking bastard," you swore softly, twisting around to glare over your shoulder. "Maybe I should have let you shoot him after all." 

"Naw, you're right. Can use him," Daryl said. He sighed. "Worst of it wasn't when I got beat to shit. That's when I tried to escape. Knew it was a trap, but I had to try anyway. Was thinkin' about you, and needin' to get ya outta there. The worst part," he went on pointedly as you scowled and started to protest. 

You shut up, because at least Darrie was talking. He needed to, you knew, so you leaned into him again and listened. 

"The worst- They took a goddamn picture. Left it in the cell for me," he whispered. 

"A picture? Of what?" Lead filled your stomach, and the words were a whisper to match his. 

He didn't answer for long enough you thought he wasn't going to. "Glenn," he finally said. "What was left of 'im. Maggie says it weren't my fault, but it was. I took the swing at Negan, and Glenn- Glenn fuckin' died for it." 

You pressed your forehead to his back as the tears slid down. "I'm sorry," you choked out. "That's- I'll kill him." 

"Who? Negan? Gonna have to get in line." 

"Him, too," you agreed. "But I meant Dwight. I'll kill him for that." 

Daryl snorted and patted your hand. "Naw, I'll do it." 

"Fair enough. Darrie?" 

"Wish ya'd quit callin' me that. What?" 

You kissed his cheek. "No, you don't. It wasn't your fault." 

He ducked his head and sighed. "Yeah, it was." 

"No, it wasn't. Negan didn't kill you because I chose you. When Merle- I married him for Merle. And when Merle died, I told him it was his fault. He actually agreed with me, and told me to pick three of you," you whispered. 

Darrie had gone still, but he turned at that. "Three of us? For what?" 

"To live. I picked you, Dickhead, and Rick. So when you… he killed Glenn instead. It's not your fault; it's mine," you told him. "Maggie doesn't agree, but- well, it is." 

"Maggie's right. Ain't your fault. He was done killin'. Then I fucked up," Daryl snapped. "Come on, sis. Ain't you." 

"Fine," you said quietly, knowing the two of you could- and probably would- argue about it until the end of time. "But then it's not yours either." 

Daryl jerked his chin and gestured sharply, about to prove you right by arguing that some more. Suddenly he stopped, rubbing his face instead. "Aight. Fine. You win." 

"I don't think there's winners or losers in this, Darrie," you said sadly. "But we should get back. Get that message to Rick and Shane." 

He nodded, but made no move to kick the bike to life again. "Sis?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I know ya ain't gonna stay in Alexandria. Just… be safe. Please?" 

You blinked rapidly. "I- of course. Darrie." 

"Shut up. I love ya's all. Kinda like havin' ya around," he muttered. 

"Just kind of? Come on. You adore me and you know it!" You kept your tone teasing, and he groaned and fired up the bike, falling into the cheerful bickering you'd been doing with him since you were kids. 

That, at least, felt like home.


	43. Lie #43: "I'm Not Cleaning Up In There. You Guys Can Fight It Out." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

"Easy there, 22," Rick muttered. 

Shane turned from glaring at the gate to glaring at Rick. "What?" 

The bastard smiled. He tried to hide it, but Shane saw it, and his already-boiling temper sparked further. Rick gripped his shoulder before Shane could do more than sneer, though. 

"She went with Daryl to tell Dwight it's happening. They'll be back before you know it." 

Shane figured his snort conveyed his opinion quite clearly. "She shouldn't be out there. High risk pregnancy, right?" 

"Please tell me you haven't told her that," Rick said dryly. "You know how well Ace responds to being told she can't do something." 

"Yeah, yeah." He'd gone back to staring moodily at the gate, and he needed the subject to change. 

Slugger was making him crazy. Sometimes, it was like they were almost friends again, at least. Then other times, it was like she couldn't stand the sight of him- which was rough, since they lived together and Shane flat refused to move into Rick's instead. Especially since sometimes, he'd catch her staring at him, and the look in her eyes fucking hurt. 

She thought he'd be pissed. And hell, she was right- he was pissed. Just not at her. Not about the fact that she was pregnant. That, he didn't give two fucking shits about, except- 

Hell, it was weird and he hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet, not even Rick, but he was damn near excited about it. 

Thing was, he'd watched Slugger watch Lori while she was pregnant with Judith. He knew it had broken Ace's heart a little, watching another woman grow his baby. She'd never said a word, never given any hint, but Shane had seen it. And Ace, she doted on Judy. She loved Shane's little girl like she was Ace's own. 

Shane wanted to see her with her own. He wanted to know what that looked like. Shit, he wanted to have all those pregnancy moments Rick had talked about with Carl, the ones he missed out on with Judy because everything was so strange. 

Shane would make Ace's baby his own like she had done his, no matter who the father was biologically, because Shane was just so damn happy it was even possible when everyone- including Ace- had said it wasn't. 

She didn't get that, and Shane was running out of ways to say it to her without sounding weird and maybe even a little insane. Besides, he didn't want to push her. Not into anything she didn't want, and sometimes he wasn't sure she wanted him anymore. 

He had to stop thinking about it. 

"So," he said abruptly, shoving off the townhouse railing and deliberately turning his back on the gate. "Tomorrow." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "Go over it again?" 

"Sure." 

Going over the plan again settled him down enough that when they pulled through the gate, Shane just lifted a hand in a wave. Ace waved back, and considering she'd walked away from him with devastated eyes and without a word earlier, Shane decided to call that progress. 

Daryl brought Dwight's return message over, and he, Rick, and Shane had a conference to see if it changed anything. 

It didn't. 

He oversaw messengers running the new information to Maggie and Carol, triple checked their fleet of vehicles, and went over it all again with Rick, complete with new additions from Dwight's lookout information. When he got home, he wasn't even pissed anymore. He just missed her, still, even though she was right inside. 

He found them bickering in the kitchen, and it made him smile before he even closed the door. 

"Damn it, Darrie-"

"Would ya stop fuckin' callin' me-" 

"I will not!" 

They might have sounded pissed to someone else, but Shane knew better. He heard the lazy amusement in Daryl's voice, the smile under that fake outrage in Ace's. She adored her twin, and Shane wondered as he often did how in the hell Malcolm fucking Hall had ever managed to keep them apart. 

He missed the damn lump. 

"Walsh! Ya back. Good. Tell my lil sister here-" 

Ace's half-groan, half-shriek had both Shane and Daryl wincing. "Five minutes! I am five minutes younger than you, damn it!" 

Shane caught Dixon's look. "Don't do it, man." 

"Younger's still younger, sis," Daryl said anyway. 

Shane leaned against the kitchen counter and grinned as Ace turned, scooped up the closest thing to her hand- it happened to be Judy's sippy cup- and lobbed it at her brother's head. Dixon ducked the cup, but not its contents, and Shane started laughing until his sides ached as Daryl dove after a now-giggling Ace and they chased each other around the kitchen, lobbing insults.

He sighed, shook his head, and eased past them to figure out what the hell they were having for dinner tonight. By the time they finished torturing each other, he was loading food onto plates and dumping dishes in the sink. 

"Hey, Dixons! Dinner!" he yelled, scooping all three up and heading into the living room. 

Ace and Daryl had collapsed into their normal places- Ace on one end of the couch, Daryl on the floor at her feet with his back against it- and were talking softly when he walked in. He shoved plates at them both and plopped down in his place, opposite Ace on the couch. That was another thing he refused to change- if she didn't want him this close, she could move. This was his damn spot. "I'm not cleaning up in there. You guys can fight it out." 

"I'll do it," Daryl muttered around a mouthful. 

Ace scoffed. "Since when? You never clean up." 

"Had to, while ya were gone. Me'n'Shane got all domestic and shit." 

Shane tried not to sigh as Ace's face went guarded and sad. She shook it off rapidly, though, and shot him a cautiously teasing look. "Leaving Rick for my brother, Dickhead?" 

As usual when she called him that- a rarity he ached for more than he wanted to admit, all things considered- Shane's heart twisted. It was almost like Atlanta, he thought. Maybe they'd get back to friends soon enough. 

He didn't want just friends. Not ever again. He wanted her. 

"Naw, Daryl's just a fling and Rick knows it." He forced himself to keep his tone light, and when she laughed, open and honest, he figured he'd succeeded. 

"Ouch, man. That hurts," Daryl muttered, deadpan, and Shane cracked up too. 

He wanted her. But god help him, he'd settle for this. 

Shane smiled at his girls, sitting in the road playing with sidewalk chalk. Ace had it all over her hands and dusting her clothes worse than Judy did, and he didn't know why he was surprised by that. It was Ace, after all. 

He hadn't won his battle over her going. He'd lost before he even began and he knew it, but he'd had to try. Daryl had already slipped out on the bike, to take out one of Dwight's lookouts and get in place with Carol, Tara, and Morgan. It was time for the rest of them to start out, and Shane desperately wanted, one more time, to try to convince her to stay here. 

"Don't do it." 

Shane hooked his arm around Carl's shoulders without taking his eyes off Ace and Judith. "Do what, kid?" 

"Ask her to stay," Carl said softly. "She won't, and it'll just make you both even more unhappy." 

He looked at the kid now, flicking the brim of the beat-up sheriff's hat Shane couldn't believe he still had. "When'd you get so smart?" 

"Stop it. I just know you and Aunt Ace, that's all." Carl shifted and sighed. "Keep an eye on Dad?" 

"Every damn day," Shane agreed. "Since elementary school." 

"I know. You always look out for us. I hate staying here, but someone has to look out for this place. Aunt Ace has to go, at least for the beginning." 

Ace giggled and touched a chalk-smeared finger to Judy's nose, then kissed her head and climbed to her feet. Shane sighed as she dusted her hands off on her jeans, leaving more colorful chalk smears along them, and started his way. 

"I know," he agreed. And because the kid was right, he offered her a smile and didn't beg her to stay. "Hey, Slugger. Ride with me? Please?" 

She paused, the stubborn set to her jaw softening in surprise. Her eyes lingered warily, but when he didn't say anything else, she smiled back at both him and Carl. "Sure. We heading out?" 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. "Alright, kiddo. You're in charge. Be safe." 

"I already heard this from Dad, but why am I in charge? Michonne is," Carl protested. 

"Michonne already told me you are," Ace said cheerfully. "I'm following your orders when I get back. See you later, Carl." 

"Bye, Aunt Ace. Be careful. You too, Uncle Shane." Carl hugged him again and Shane held on, only letting go when he saw Rick approaching, seriousness in his eyes and Michonne at his side. 

Shane nodded, clapped Rick on the shoulder, and rounded the car to the driver's side. "See you there, brother," he called. 

"This is the end of it," Rick said firmly. 

Shane hoped like hell he was right. 

Rick, Maggie, and Ezekiel climbed onto the bed of the truck to address the assembled troops. Shane leaned on the tailgate and listened, watching Slugger out of the corner of his eye and pretending he wasn't. 

She was staring hard at everything, hand moving at her side in that way she did when she was sketching and didn't realize it. It would have made him smile if he wasn't so goddamn worried about her being there. She shouldn't have been, no matter what she and Maggie had said earlier about waging war into the second trimester. 

Maggie shouldn't have been there either, he thought grumpily. The only thing keeping him from tossing Ace over his shoulder and hauling her- and hell, Maggie too- back to Alexandria was her promise that she was only here for part one. She'd go back home on her own, and help Carl and Michonne and Rosita guard the place. 

"When I first met him, Jesus said that my world was gonna get a whole lot bigger. We found that world. We found each other. That bigger world is ours by right."

Shane didn't know about by right, but Rick was in full speech making mode and he wasn't about to interrupt that. When he did this shit, miracles happened, and despite the fact that it was a solid plan, Shane thought they might need a miracle or two on their side in the next few days. 

"That we've come together for it, all of us- it's that much more true. It's ours by right! Any person who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground- it's their right too. But those who use and take and kill to carve out the world to make it theirs alone? We end them!" Rick's voice throbbed with passion, but Shane shifted a little and looked at his feet. 

That was a bit strong. Hell, they'd done their share of killing and carving in this world. Shane had sacrificed Otis; Rick had ripped Joe's throat out, not that that asshole hadn't solidly deserved it. They'd both hacked Gareth and his Terminus bastards into pieces in a fucking church. 

Hell, if he thought about it too hard, he and Rick might need ending as well. 

"We don't celebrate it, but we don't have shame about it, either. There's only one person who has to die. And I will kill him myself." 

Now, that one Shane disagreed with wholeheartedly, and he snorted. "Not if I beat you to it, brother," he muttered. 

From the way Rick paused, Shane figured he'd heard him. He didn't much care. Plus, there were a couple more on Shane's list to take out by the time all this was through- Dwight, Simon. Anyone else Ace or Daryl wanted. 

Shane wasn't planning on stopping with one. 

"I will. I will," Rick murmured. "But if it's the others, the other who prop him up, stand by his side; even those who just look the other way- so be it. Then we keep making the world bigger. Together." 

"Together! Bound forever!" 

He made the mistake of meeting Ace's eyes as Ezekiel took up the speech, and he had to bite down on his tongue hard to keep from laughing his ass off. As it was, he and Slugger just stood there, grinning at each other, as Ezekiel continued. 

"To quote the Bard, 'For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.' For she today, my sister." 

Ace was turning an interesting shade of purple, and Shane knew if he didn't look away from her he was going to do something deeply embarrassing and start cracking up in the middle of the inspirational speech, but he couldn't help himself. Her eyes danced and sparkled, and for this moment, there was no tension or awkwardness between them. 

Shiva roared like it'd been rehearsed, and Ace turned around with a vaguely desperate look in her eyes. Shane grinned as he saw her shoulders shaking, knowing she was silently laughing her ass off. 

Thankfully, Maggie took it up then, her calm, measured tone grounding and inspiring all at once. "We've practiced. We've been through it over and over again. We all know the plan doesn't end this morning. That we may have to live in uncertainty for days, maybe more. That we have to keep our faith in each other. If we can hold on to that with everything we have, the future is ours," she said simply. "The world is ours." 

"I don't wanna wait for it anymore," Rick said. Shane glanced up when Rick clapped him on the shoulder, stepping down out of the truck bed. "You don't either-- yeah, I know. So we don't have to wait for it." 

Shane watched as Rick wandered the line of people gathered, armbands bright spots of color proclaiming them Hilltop, Alexandrian, or Kingdom, and looked people in the eyes while he spoke. This was the magic, the connection Rick had always been able to do. Ace did it too, and when Rick stopped by Ace- who'd gotten herself together- she smiled into his eyes and squeezed Rick's hand, and Shane wondered how they did it. 

He'd never been one to inspire followers. Not like Rick and Ace and Maggie, even crazy fucking Ezekiel. He'd always been more of the giving orders and getting shit done type. 

Which was why he would kill Negan, not Rick.

"If we start tomorrow right now… with everything we've beaten, everything we've endured, everything we've risen above, everything we've become- if we start tomorrow right now, no matter what comes next, we've won," Rick said. He stood, rifle in hand, and the rising sun at his back, as he smiled into the army he'd assembled. "We've already won!" 

Shane shook his head at his brother as everyone cheered. "Rick fucking Grimes," he whispered.


	44. Lie #44: "Maybe He Will, But It Won't Be Your Business. I'm Done, Mal." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> references to domestic violence

Shane was freaking out and you knew it. He absolutely hated you being here, and he was doing he level fucking best not to show it. Giving you space, and room to breathe. 

You almost wished he'd just pick a fight over it already. At least if you had something to be pissed at him about, it wouldn't hurt so much. 

The sentries on the roof of the Sanctuary dropped and you wondered who'd taken the shots. It had been a tense, silent car ride to the meetup location, and a tense, silent car ride here. You clenched your hands in your lap and tried not to think about being pulled, blindfolded and disoriented, out of the back of a truck and confronted with walkers on a fence, laughing Saviors, and Negan. 

You didn't succeed. 

Shane reached over, even as he spun the wheel and pulled the car into place in line, and laid his hand over yours. "You can stay in the car if you want. I know you needed to be here, but- I'm just sayin'. You don't have to go out there." 

"He put my brother on the fence," you whispered. "Right there- between the three-piece suit and the former worker, the one in sweats. He put my brother on the fence, Dickhead, for us both to see. My older brother." 

Shane's curse was short, sharp, and heartbroken. "I'll kill him for you. Promise." 

"I know." You sighed, turned your fingers up in his as doors started opening around you, and squeezed his hand. "I have to go out there. I have to see this part through. Then I'll go home." 

You flung open your doors at the same time. Phase One was starting. 

You ended up between Maggie and Jesus. You couldn't stay still, studying the whole scene, trying to memorize it to draw later. 

"What are you doing?" Jesus asked, tone patiently calm and slightly amused. 

You gave him a solemn look. "I'm going to draw you. You're going to pose for me. Just so you know." 

He blinked once, head tilted slightly, before the almost invisible smile. "Sure. Could be fun. Never done that before." 

"Shane's done it a lot," you said cheerfully. "I've drawn you already, but I've got something rather specific in mind. It involves a small amount of blasphemy, so I hope you're cool with that." 

"Generally speaking, I prefer my blasphemy in large doses, but small will do." 

You grinned at him, smothering a laugh as Maggie cleared her throat. 

"Hush, you two," she whispered, raising her arm. She turned to study the line of people, all mixed together with their colored armbands to say who belonged to who, and nodded sharply to Rick and Shane. They nodded back, Maggie dropped her arm, and you fired four times into the air along with everyone else. 

Knocks on a door, you thought. Like the governor and his fucking tank at the prison. 

The silence was deafening as the last shot faded. You fiddled with your own white armband- you'd questioned it in a low voice and gotten yelled at by several people at once- and muttered under your breath. "Five, four, three, two, one-" 

The door at the top of the stairs swung open.

Maggie shot you a look, and you could feel Jesus' eyes on you hard as well. You shrugged, jaw going tight as he chuckled. 

"Well, shit." 

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and peered through the gap at Negan.

Ellie had pointed you and Jason to the door as soon as Mal said Grave Behavior was going on break. She'd had that look in her eyes, and both of you had half-laughed, grabbed your cigarettes, and exchanged an exhausted fist bump. She and the new bar back could handle it for ten minutes, or you hoped so at least. 

Besides, someone- probably Julie- would come get you if there were problems. 

You bent over, blowing smoke from your nose as you stretched out your back, and let out a hard groan. "Shit. We rich enough to quit this gig yet?" 

"I wish," Jason muttered. He'd slumped directly against the whiskey label mural and you glanced over at him from your upside down position. "Feels like we should be. On the other hand, bills. Rent. Eating." 

"Yes, living is an expensive hobby," you agreed. "How many shots have I made tonight?" 

"Fuck if I know." 

You half-laughed and straightened back up, tipping your head to his shoulder. "I'm tired." 

"No shit. Mal sounds good tonight. Greg's actually sober, too." 

You nodded without lifting your head, so you didn't have to hide the wince. "Yeah. They're really getting it together. Got a big meeting in a month or so, and they've been practicing every day for hours. If they land it, they could get a record deal. Mal's really hopeful." 

And really fucking tense, you thought grimly. In fact, you should get back inside before he came looking for you. He'd been up your ass about everything and everyone you knew, and you'd had a vicious fight over Dickhead before you came to work tonight. 

Which you didn't fucking understand. You'd asked Shane to stay away on live nights to avoid the fucking fights, but now Mal was saying how you were hiding hanging out with Shane from him. Before, it'd been flaunting it. Honestly, you were beginning to think you just couldn't fucking win with him. 

"He's going to get it," Jason said confidently. "They deserve it. Hey, no cop tonight?" 

"There's a subject change," you mumbled, using the end of one cigarette to light another. No one had come looking, so Ellie and Ben had it under control for a few more minutes. And honestly, your feet were screaming, your back was screaming, and you were exhausted-- and you were only halfway through this shift. "No, I asked Dickhead to steer clear on live nights." 

Jason was silent for long enough you almost forced yourself upright again to look at him. "Ah," he said finally. "Mal say to do that?" 

"No, I did," you said slowly, with forced patience. "Jase-" 

"Your life, honey." He kissed your hair and leaned his cheek against your head. "Is it closing time yet?"

You laughed, but you knew he was concerned. He'd caught some of the arguments between you and Mal over Dickhead, and Jason had been asking some pointed questions. It was another reason you'd decided Shane couldn't be around when Mal was. The risk of something happening was too damn high, and you just… didn't want to deal with that. Neither Shane or Jason would get it, and it'd just be a whole lot of drama over something that wasn't that big a deal.

It wasn't Mal's fault. Not really. He just got jealous, and honestly, you understood. You did too. Besides, when you were behind the bar, you tended to flirt hard. Had to rake in those tips, and Mal got that. He knew when you were working, not genuinely flirting, and he was fine with that.

It was different with Shane. Even you could admit it was different with Shane. Not that there was anything going on there- you didn't cheat, and Dickhead was just a friend now- but there had been once upon a time. It made it different, and- 

"Better get back inside." Jason interrupted your train of thought, though he made no move to do as he said. "Ellie's gonna start screaming. Grave Behavior will go back on soon." 

"No, not yet." You yawned, half-laughed, and gestured at the door. "Mal's gonna be out here any second now."

The door opened and you both turned to see Mal come striding out, cigarette of his own already in his lips and lighter in hand. He turned to look at you, and you swallowed hard, straightening up from your slump against Jason's shoulder. "Hey, babe." 

"Ok, how the hell did you do that?" Jason demanded. He crushed out his cigarette and dropped the butt into the bucket Ellie and Ben had finally given up and put out here for that reason, after their cute little designated ashtray had been filled to overflowing in five minutes. 

You shrugged as Mal wandered over wordlessly. "It's a skill, baby. I'll be in in a couple." 

"No rush. I can handle it. New girl isn't useless, so that's a plus." Jason's tone was casual as he started back, clapping Malcolm on the shoulder. "Great set, man. You guys are rocking." 

"Yeah, thanks," Mal said tightly. 

Jason shot you a look as he ducked through the door, but you waved him on with a smile. You turned back to Mal, keeping your face and voice relaxed despite the tension creeping up your spine. 

"He's right. The extra practice is really paying off. You guys sound better than-" 

"Shut up, Ace," Mal hissed. 

You froze mid-gesture before bringing your cigarette back to your lips. "I'm trying to have a conversation, Malcolm." 

"You think I want to have a conversation right now? You've been ignoring me all night, and then I find you out here all cuddled up with Jason!" 

You stubbed out the cigarette and gave Mal a disgusted look. "I have not been ignoring you; I have been working. And for shit's sake, Jase and I have been friends for years. This is shaping up to be a brutal shift, which is awesome for business and for you guys, but we're exhausted already and we have three hours to go. I was commiserating with my friend and partner. And finally, don't speak to me like that." 

"I'll speak how I want to!" Mal snarled, jabbing at your shoulder with two fingers. 

You smiled tightly. "Sure. Just not to me. I'm not here for this, Malcolm. I'm going back inside to do my job." 

"Yeah, pour some drinks and flash your tits at someone else. Maybe the cop will show up for you to go fuck." 

"Maybe he will, but it won't be your business," you ground out between clenched teeth. "I'm done, Mal." You flung the door open as he laughed. 

"You're never done with me, Ace!"

He strolled out, bat on his shoulder, and his collection of asshole enforcers followed him. Somehow, even though your presence was a complete surprise- you could tell by everyone else's faces, and shit, D wasn't a bad actor after all- Negan smiled. He smiled, shoved a hand in his pocket, and surveyed your armored-car forest like a king looking over his troops. 

Or a rock star on a stage. 

"I'm sorry," he said brightly. "I was in a meeting." 

"You're an asshole," you mumbled, and Jesus made a choked-off noise beside you. 

"I see you got your little mudflaps with you. So I'm not exactly seeing a reason for us to try throwing lead at each other." Negan drawled it, laying it on thick. 

You rolled your eyes and resisted the urge to continue adding commentary. The plan was in motion, and if Negan never realized you were there, that would be fine with you. You just wanted to see it. 

"I mean, I care about my people," Negan said, laying a hand against his chest with wide eyes. "I don't want to just march them into the line of fire because I wanna play 'my dick is bigger than yours'." 

You sighed and leaned your forehead against the metal sheeting you were using for cover. This was going to get graphic, wasn't it? 

"It is. We all know it. Especially you… Dickhead. I know you're back there, and I have no doubt you've been having some fun playing house with my wife and baby. She told you yet? How… good I treated her? Hey, I wonder if she told you about-" 

"You think you're gonna get a rise out of me with that?" Shane called, sounding cool and unbothered on the surface. "I know what happened here."

You deliberately didn't look at Shane, keeping your eyes on Negan. He smiled and licked his lips, half-laughing as he shook his head. 

"Alright," he said soothingly. "Alright. I get it. Point is, we all know it. But, I'm also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn't. I'm certainly not gonna let my people die over that shit… like you're about to," he added, pointing Lucille out at Shane and Rick. 

He had something up his sleeve, but you had know idea what it could be. He was smug and confident, and didn't seem at all shaken by the appearance of your little army. He had to have something you didn't know about, hadn't planned for. 

"Breathe, Ace," Jesus whispered. "He's all the way up there." 

"I'm fine," you muttered back. "But-" 

"You're so focused on him it's scaring me. Rick and Shane have this. You need to take a step back." 

You shot him a glare. "I'm not going anywhere," you hissed, pissed at having to have this argument a-fucking-gain. 

"Mentally. Stop trying to guess his next move. I see the signs, and you can't see your face right now. Shane can," Jesus whispered. "You have to bring it back. For him." 

You almost looked over at Dickhead, but you couldn't. You couldn't. Instead, you forced your grip on the Glock in your hands to relax, licking lips you suddenly realized were bone dry. The tremble you hadn't noticed until now started to settle, and you gave Jesus a grateful look. "Thank you." 

He nodded, because Negan had decided the dramatic pause had gone on long enough. 

"So, Rick, what the hell can I do for you?" he asked, spreading both arms and swinging Lucille back up to his shoulder. 

Rick, like the boss he was, ignored Negan completely. "Dwight. Your name's Simon. You're Gavin. And you?" 

The woman, tough looking and pissed off, planted her hands on her hips. "Regina." 

"Rick, I’d feel remiss if--" 

"No." Voice flat, devoid of any emotion, Rick cut Eugene off. Then the scorn whipped out like a knife. "I know who you are." 

Eugene sighed, and Negan half-smiled, looking from Rick to Eugene in surprise. Amazingly, at least from your perspective, he didn't start talking again. 

"Listen, you five. The Saviors inside. All of you have a chance to survive here. To survive this." Rick had gone into full speech mode again, and you couldn't help looking over to him. You loved seeing the stubborn bastard expression, but more importantly, you loved the look Shane got as well. 

It was that mix of awed and amused, annoyed, and impressed, and he had it now as he stood by Rick with a rifle at the ready. Like he felt your eyes on him, Shane chose that moment to look over your way, and he smiled and nodded. 

You nodded back, but you wondered how in the hell he could still look at you like you were art. 

"You all can live if you surrender. Can't guarantee it any time but now," Rick continued, confidence radiating from every word. "Right now."

And the terrifying thing about him was, it was real. Every bit of that confidence and self-assurance was real. It was the Rick Grimes magic, and you had all placed your bets that it would outweigh Negan's power.

Now you'd see if you'd win.


	45. Lie #45: "You Weren't Friends." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> child abuse  
> references to domestic violence/abuse  
> references to rape/non con

Silence and a smirk greeted Rick's offer of life. The smirk became a full-blown grin, and Negan made a face. "So they surrender," he started slowly, gesturing with Lucille at his people, "and you and your little piss patrol doesn't kill them. That sounds like a good deal! What about me, Rick?" 

Negan leaned on the railing, staring toward Rick with an intensity that sent tension shooting back up your spine and churning in your stomach. Though, to be fair, part of that might have been the kid. Jesus, did Maggie have this much nausea? She never showed it if she did. 

"I told you. Twice," Rick shot back. "You know what's going to happen." 

"I do. I do know what's going to happen. You don't! You have no idea the shit that's about to go down." 

You looked wildly for Shane, because Negan was too fucking amused. Whatever his card was, whatever he had that your people didn't know about, it was going to happen soon, and you had to warn Dickhead. You had to- 

Shane's eyes locked with yours and the rising tide of pure panic started to settle back. He mouthed 'you ok?', already shifting like he would come to your side right then and there. 

He would, and you knew it. And the plan might get fucked because Shane wasn't watching Rick's back. They could handle it, you told yourself firmly. Whatever it was Negan pulled, those two could handle it- as long as you didn't distract Shane. 

You forced a smile and nod and tried to telepathically tell him to fucking focus. 

"Let me ask you somethin', Rick," Negan drawled, smug self-confidence replacing the amusement. "Do you think you have the numbers for this fight? You don't." 

Honestly, you had no idea what to expect when Negan sent Simon inside. Gregory poking his head around the door and wandering up to the railing, adjusting his suit jacket self-importantly, was most definitely not it.

"Ugh," you muttered, and Maggie and Jesus each made agreeing noises. 

"Of course that's where he went," Jesus said, tone mildly disgusted. 

You scoffed. "Well, yeah. He's a rat. Rats always jump ship."

"What do you have to say to Rick and the piss patrol, Gregory?" Negan asked, slinging an arm around Gregory's shoulders. 

He puffed himself up like a goddamn peacock, hands on his hips and his best intimidating expression looking like he'd been practicing it in the mirror two minutes ago. Honestly, you had no idea how Maggie had been putting up with him. 

"The Hilltop stands with Negan and the Saviors!" he declared. "Any resident of the Hilltop who takes up arms or who supports this ultimatum against the Sanctuary, or any of the Saviors, for that matter-" 

"God, what are you, a lawyer?" you muttered. Jesus laughed under his breath, shooting you a look. You grinned back, but Gregory's words sobered you quickly. 

"They will no longer be welcome in the colony." 

Well, fuck. 

"And?" Negan prompted. 

Gregory looked mildly guilty, but he turned back to the cars. "Their families will be thrown out and will be left to fend for themselves!"

Negan grinned and patted him on the back, stepping away with his expression so damn amused you wondered what else he had. Surely Gregory alone wasn't it. No one listened to this tool. 

Gregory puffed up even more and bellowed. "Go home now. Or you won't have a home to go back to!" 

Maggie turned and looked at her people. "Do what you need to do," she said simply. 

No one moved. 

"All I have at the Hilltop are a bunch of books and an old lobster bib," Jesus said with a shrug.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep the laughter in, shoulders shaking. Thing was, it wasn't even that funny, but something in the tension of the moment and the way he delivered it had you rolling. 

Or maybe you were just finally cracking. Either way, he met your eyes and that made it worse, and you glared at him as you tried to get your shit together. Jesus just winked, little shit, and turned calmly back to Negan on the railing. 

"You heard the man! Go back to separating wheat and shit, or whatever the hell it is you people do," Negan called. 

Maggie half-smiled. "Doesn't look like anyone's going, does it?" 

"The Hilltop stands-" Gregory yelled, and you watched his face turn an interesting color when Jesus interrupted him. 

"The Hilltop stands with Maggie!" 

"Huzzah!" you yelled, forgetting yourself for a moment. 

Jesus and Maggie both tried not to laugh, Maggie reaching over to smack your arm lightly and roll her eyes. You grinned and shrugged, enjoying yourself more than was probably wise. 

And then Negan laughed.

Shane couldn't stop laughing, and you loved it. He'd looked rough as hell when he arrived at your door, and you'd immediately asked him if he just wanted to stay in tonight instead of going out to Jason's latest bar recommendation. 

He'd flat refused, eyes raking over you with lazy appreciation, and said it'd be a shame to waste your outfit. While you did look damn good, you'd rolled your eyes at him and told him to cut it out. 

Now, you were pressed up against him, his hand on your back steering your every move, and the way he was laughing made you glad he'd wanted to come out after all. Two drinks in, they'd played one of your favorite songs, and you hadn't even had to ask or steal his drink to get him out on the floor. 

He'd grabbed your hand, pulled you out of your chair without a word, and pulled you close to sway along to the sappy pop nonsense, as he called it. You hadn't left the floor since, and from the way he was spinning you around, you likely wouldn't for most of the night. 

As long as he was laughing, you didn't care.

"Oh, you brought my princess back, huh?" 

Negan practically purred it, and you froze. Shit. Shit, shit, fuck, you thought wildly. You stared through the gap at him as he scanned the cars with his lip between his teeth. You needed to get out of here, didn't you? You'd just make it worse by him knowing you were here, and- 

"She was never yours, asshole," Shane yelled. 

Your head whipped around to where he was, eyes on you instead of Negan. You stared back, wondering why he couldn't see that yes. Yes, you were. You were Negan's- Negan's wife, the mother of Negan's child, because you'd struck a deal with the devil to keep your brother alive and then you'd failed that. 

"Really?" Negan drew it out and you had the feeling you should be keeping an eye on him, but you couldn't look away from Shane. "Why's that? Cause you think she belongs to you?" 

Shane smiled and shook his head, eyes never leaving yours. "Naw. Because she's her own damn person. Always has been." 

"Oh, shit, Dickhead. That's real romantic. She might be her own person, but that don't make her any less mine. My wife. That's my child I planted deep, and I mean deep, inside her. Not yours, Dickhead. Not yours." 

You looked down at your toes and drew in a shaking breath. He was right, and oh god you were so ashamed you'd ever agreed to let him touch you. Even for Merle, even for Dickhead, you never should have- Will was so fucking right about you, and you wanted to run away or cry or puke, or maybe all three at once. 

Maggie's hand wrapped around yours. "We're almost done. He's just tryin' to get us- especially Shane- to mess up." 

You nodded and managed a smile for her, but Negan was right. It was his baby. You were his wife. You stared at the white armband and considered ripping it off. What the hell were you even doing, trying to be a part of Alexandria again? Trying to be friends with Shane again? 

You weren't friends. Not anymore. There was too much there, too much unfinished and too much broken, and you had no business trying to fucking pretend- 

"So, I guess this means… what? Hilltop won't leave. We won't surrender. What the hell happens next, Rick?" Negan snarled. He didn't twitch when Simon grabbed Gregory and shoved him down the stairs to land hard in the courtyard, but you did. That had to hurt, damn it. 

An explosion went off in the distance, grey smoke rising into the sky. 

"Ok," you mumbled. "Go, team." 

"Phase two. Stick close to me. You'll come back to Hilltop and then head on home to Alexandria, but we're gonna have to get out of here in a hurry," Maggie said rapidly. 

You glanced at Shane, where stood murmuring something into Rick's ear. Maggie sighed. 

"You bein' here will distract him, and you know it. Stick close to me," she insisted. 

"Sounds like shit is goin' down, Rick," Negan called into the silence the explosion had left behind. 

Rick nodded at Shane and straightened up, stepping back into the gap between metal sheets. "You 'lieutenants'," he called. "You're gonna have to make up your minds." 

"Maybe we can take a time-out here--" Gavin started. Negan whirled and shot him a hate-filled glare, and you whistled under your breath. 

That dude had just made a huge mistake, you thought. 

"No," Rick interrupted implacably. "This has to happen now. This is the only way." 

Negan wasn't amused anymore. His ace up his sleeve had failed. His usual method of intimidation had failed. And one of his people had actually hinted at maybe jumping ship. 

His expression would have left you shaking and terrified if you'd been up there with him. As it was, lead filled your stomach and you made sure you had a good fucking grip on your gun. 

Rick sighed. "You're gonna make me count? Okay," he added with a chuckle. 

Shane caught your eye and smiled. He mouthed something that looked an awful lot like "I love you, Slugger," and the lead in your stomach melted and swirled. 

What the fuck, Dickhead? You thought at him as panic set in. Rick started his countdown, and you stared hard and wild at Shane as he pulled his rifle up at the ready before Rick had even gotten to eight. 

At seven, Rick and Shane started shooting. 

Merle was it. 

You darted, giggling, for the closet in your bedroom and your secret cave there, behind the dresser Merle had wedged into it to free up some floor space, as soon as he started counting. Darrie disappeared like a ghost into the bathroom, and you wondered where in the world he'd find to hide in there. It was tiny and there wasn't much space. 

You pulled the closet door almost closed, leaving the gap Merle and Darrie usually left because they couldn't be bothered to be neat and tidy, and slid down behind the dresser. You barely fit, which was what made it perfect. 

Merle would never find you in here. 

"Ten! Aight, shitheads, I'm comin'!" 

You slapped a hand over your mouth to hold in the giggles and waited as he rustled around, muttering to himself. Merle didn't like to play much anymore, and you were all too old for hide and seek anyway, really. But you'd been bored and Merle had seemed sad, and he and Darrie had both smiled at the suggestion. 

"Got ya, lil bro! Aight, where's ya-" 

Merle's voice cut off at the sound of the front door slamming, and you flinched. "Shit," you whispered, eyes going wide. 

Will was home. 

"Well, hell, ya back then? Where the fuck ya been thi' time? Whorehouse?" He slurred his words, and there was a nasty edge to each of them that left you breathless and shaking. Will was drunk as a skunk already, as Merle would say, and looking for a reason to be mean. 

Please don't give him one, please don't give him one, please don't give him one, you thought desperately. 

"Juvie. I'm fourteen, ain't gonna let me in no whorehouse," Merle shot back, attitude in his voice. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth to hold in the yelp at the sound of fist on flesh. "Damn it, Merle," you whispered.

Darrie started yelling and Will did too, and you buried your face in your knees and pressed your hands over your ears, tears sliding down your cheeks as you waited for it to be over. Why didn't Merle just keep his head down and his mouth shut? Then this wouldn't happen. 

You should go out there. You should do something, you told yourself firmly. Get him a beer. That might calm him down, and- 

You couldn't move. You screamed at your body to just go; to climb from the closet and go help your brothers, but you couldn't do it. You curled into a tighter ball and waited for it to be over. 

When you heard the tv start, you opened your eyes. When you heard the bedroom door, you closed them again. You'd done nothing. Your brothers had gotten hurt- you could hear the strain in both their voices when they called your name- and you'd hidden and cried like a baby. 

The least you could do was patch them up, so you slid from the closet and took the first aid kit from Daryl's hands without meeting their eyes. "How bad?" you whispered. "I'll help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. Life is crazy rn and I am so sorry. Thanks for all the love, though; comments and kudos make my day!!!


	46. Lie #46: "We're Gonna Be Late If You Spend Forever Going Over The Same Shit I've Been Over With You Before." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

"You're gonna make me count?" Rick sighed and half laughed, and Shane braced himself. 

Things were about to go sideways, and just in case… He caught Ace's eye, like he had several times- neither of those women should have been here, damn it- and smiled. He hadn't said it last time, at Alexandria, and he'd come way too damn close to dying there for his comfort. 

"I love you," he mouthed to her. He saw the way her eyes went wide and concerned, and he tried to send reassurances her way. He wasn't expecting to die, he just wanted to make sure he'd told her, just in case. 

He'd gone long enough not saying it before the world ended, and then some more after just because he was a stubborn fool. He wasn't wasting a chance now, no matter how fucked things were between them at the moment. 

"Ten. Nine. Eight." 

Shane's world narrowed down to Negan's smirk, and the plan took a bit of a backseat to the fact that he was right fucking there and so was this asshole. Plus, he knew Rick fucking well and he knew exactly how this would go. 

"Seven!" 

Shane whipped up his rifle and started shooting, but he wasn't going for the wall of windows like everyone else. Rick was doing the same, Shane suddenly realized. They were both gunning for that leather jacket clad bastard. 

Negan dove for cover, rolling down the stairs as his team dashed inside, leaving him stranded as glass rained from on high. Shane spared a glance to Maggie and Ace, torn between staying here at his brother's side- where he needed to be- and at theirs- where he also needed to be. 

Ace fired crisp, precise shots, lined up and delivered with such control Shane had no doubt she hit her target every time. Her face was calm and clear, and he relaxed slightly. Any time there was gunplay, he got worried about his girl freezing up. All that bullshit in her past liked to sneak up on her at bad moments, but somehow major firefights like this didn't seem to do it. 

Like the first time he'd seen her shoot, back at the camp outside of Atlanta. She'd reached over, plucked his gun from his holster, and taken charge of Carol and Sophia. He still couldn't believe he'd never known she knew her way around a gun. 

Maggie seemed fine as well, and Jesus caught his look as he popped the magazine from his handgun and replaced it with another. The ninja nodded once, as close to a promise to keep an eye on the two of them as Shane figured he could ask for, and he nodded back. 

They didn't have long for this phase, and the timing had to be right. Soon they'd start falling back, but until then, Shane was gunning for Negan. And Rick had the same idea. 

They were both taking shots at the structure Negan had managed to crawl behind, keeping him pinned down and pissed off. Shane wondered if they could find a way to get a little closer, but he had a feeling that wouldn't happen. 

"Now!" 

Maggie yelled it, and the gunfire ringing in his ears lessened immediately. He checked over his shoulder to make sure Ace was doing what she'd fucking promised, and she wasn't there anymore. Since Maggie, Enid, and Jesus were gone too, Shane decided that meant they'd left, according to plan. 

Which meant he only had two priorities now instead of three. Since one of them was keeping Rick alive and the other was making Negan very, very dead, Shane was delighted that he could do both those things at once. 

Rick took off without a word when the horns started blaring. Shane rolled his eyes, muttered a curse, and followed him, having expected this bullshit since the bastard had showed his face. 

"Where you think you're going alone, brother?" he demanded as he fell in at Rick's side. 

Rick didn't spare him a glance. "He's-" 

"Yeah, I know. Let's end this." 

Rick flashed him a look and Shane knew his answering smile was downright feral. Vehicles streamed by them on their way out as they jockeyed for a position that gave them cover and a better shot. Shane pinged a bullet by Negan's foot and muttered a curse when he missed by centimetres, and the rifle clicked when he pulled the trigger. 

He sighed and slung it over his shoulder, pulling his Glock instead. "RV's coming," he grunted at Rick. 

Rick didn't respond. Shane caught Gabriel's eye, behind the wheel, as the RV slowed by the gates. He nodded, yelling for Gabriel to go for it, and the father climbed out the back window. He'd weighted the pedal, and the beast rolled toward the gate while Gabriel dashed for cover. 

Rick had the detonator. Shane grabbed him by the arm and hauled him down despite his scowl. 

"Blow the thing, man!" he snapped. 

Rick's eyes went wide, but he ducked and covered his face like Shane, and two seconds later, the RV went up and took the gates with it. 

"Sorry, Dale," Shane muttered when his ears stopped ringing. He popped his head up over their cover and did a quick look around. Bits of twisted metal, walker parts, and piles of flame greeted him, and he shoved a hand through his hair. "Not bad. We've had plans do worse." 

"What the fuck are you on about, 22?" Rick demanded. "We ready to get out of here?" 

Shane started to respond when he saw movement. He laughed instead, hard and harsh, and eased around to get closer. "Not quite." 

Negan limped his way out from behind the stairs, and Shane started popping off rounds. Fucking bastard was injured, and Shane could do this. He just needed a better angle, and he could end this fuckery once and for all. For him, for Glenn, for Abraham and Merle, for Maggie and her baby, for Ace- he could end this. 

He dashed for a new piece of metal, ignoring Rick's grabbing hand and the yelling he could dimly hear. He had to do this. He could do it. Negan hid behind the twisted hulk of the plating they'd covered the RV's front with, and after that blast it was damaged and warped. Hell, Shane might be able to get a bullet all the way through it. 

And even if he couldn't, he could keep Negan pinned down while he got a better angle. Over there near that flaming pile of gate and walker heads, maybe, or- 

"Shane! Damn it, brother, we need to go!" 

"I can get him!" Shane yelled it, shaking Rick's hand off his arm. 

Rick didn't cooperate, refusing to let go of his arm until Shane whirled to knock him away with a glare. Rick grabbed Shane by the back of the neck, forcing him to look into his eyes. "This isn't about us, brother." 

"No, it's not," Shane agreed. "It's about her." 

"Then let's go find her. We're about to pinned down. You wanna get back to her? We need to go, now!" 

The noise registered then, the snarls and groans and shuffles he'd filtered out of the background. The herd had arrived. 

"Shit," he muttered. 

Rick flashed him a wild grin. "Yeah. Get in the damn truck." 

Shane snorted and fired off a few more rounds Negan's way, just to keep the bastard on his toes. "Get the pictures?" 

"Shit. No, I was busy trying to keep your ass from dying here." Rick sounded thoroughly annoyed, and for some reason Shane was floating. 

He scanned the devastation, firing randomly as Rick grabbed the Polaroid camera and did some shooting of his own. Shane still thought that part of Rick's plan was a dumbass idea if he ever heard one, but he couldn't deny the utter glee he felt scanning the fucking Sanctuary. 

Some Sanctuary it'd be after this, he thought. But fuck, that herd was damn close. "Rick?" 

"I'm done. Get in. Gabriel set?" 

Shane slid behind the wheel and threw it in reverse, scanning the courtyard again. "Don't see him." 

"He's in his car. Alright, let's go. We're done here," Rick muttered. 

Shane flipped the place- and Negan- off as he squealed tires and bulled over a walker. 

"So I tell her, 'darlin', you do realize I don't even know your name, right?'" 

"Jesus, brother," Rick muttered. "Tell me you didn't." 

Shane glanced over and tipped Rick a wink, and he groaned. Shane laughed hard at the disgusted look on Rick's face, then changed lanes to pass someone doing ten miles under the posted speed limit on the six-lane highway. 

"I did, man. I did. Where the hell's a trooper?" he added with an annoyed glance in the rear view. 

"It was an old lady." 

"Yeah, well. Grandma gonna cause a crash," he shot back. 

Rick hit the button to change the music from Shane's battered workout mix cassette to the radio, shooting Shane a look he steadfastly ignored when Adele replaced the last of Shane's driving rock. "Yeah, yeah. So, how did she take it?" 

"What? Oh, Ginger Spice- well, man, it was the hair, you know?" he protested when Rick started coughing. "And the Union Jack shirt she was trying to make an escape from. Anyway, Ginger Spice stares at me and goes 'how the fuck do you not know my name? You were inside me!' at the top of her lungs." 

"God." 

Shane pointed Rick's way. "Exactly. And this is in a fuckin' Starbucks, man. For breakfast. Luckily, my date has a real good sense of humor, or this would have been, like, sitcom bad. So here I am, staring at Ginger Spice and her tits and kinda panicking a little, because for a split second, I wondered if she was right. Had I been inside her and forgot her completely? I mean, hell, I get around, but-" 

Rick snorted. "Yeah, you do, but never known you for that type. Then again, I've never known you to listen to this kinda music either, so what do I know?" 

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Shane said dryly. "So then my date, she really calmly taps Ginger Spice on the arm and says 'sugar, he couldn't have been inside you last night, since he was too busy being inside me.'"

Rick's sharp laugh made him grin as he shoved a hand through his hair, remembering the serene look in Ace's eyes. "Yeah, Ace is a pistol. And Ginger Spice, she-" 

"Wait, wait. Ace was your date? Ace, as in your friend from the bar?" 

Shane nodded. "Yeah, I took her to that art thing and then ended up crashing at her place, and-" 

"You slept with her? Again?" 

He rolled his eyes. "No, man, she's just a friend, and she was helping me out. So Ginger Spice gets this look in her eyes, and I swear to God, brother, I thought I needed pepper spray. It was like an angry fucking cat, about to grow claws and scratch at Ace's face."

Rick pointed to an exit sign and Shane nodded, glancing over his shoulder before cutting across two lanes. 

"So I'm looking around wondering how the hell I'm gonna subdue this hellion without causing a Janet Jackson at the Superbowl moment in the middle of all these businessmen, moms, and babies, and Ace smiles and tilts her head and asks Ginger Spice just who she thinks I am." He took the exit and cruised to a stop at the bottom, gesturing as he talked. "And Ginger says 'that's Eric, bitch, obviously.'" 

"Oh, hell," Rick muttered. "Hey, we're not late, are we?" 

"Naw, I told you our time wrong last night. We got a solid hour before court. And 'oh, hell' is right. So Ace's smile goes from bartender-friendly to 'I'm gonna fuck a bitch up' and now I'm wondering if I'm gonna have to arrest them both, but she bats her eyes, gets real Southern, and drawls 'well, honey, I may be a bitch, but at least I know who I've slept with. That's Shane Walsh, and he's an police officer, so maybe you should take your tits and your accusations elsewhere, before I have to point out what your pupils look like and that powder on your jeans.'" He whipped into a spot in the PD parking lot as Rick shook his head in disgust. 

"How do you get yourself into these situations, man?" Rick asked. 

"Hey, this shit wasn't my fault. All I wanted was coffee. So Ginger Spice gets real pale and starts stuttering, and I mostly try to pretend I didn't hear any of that shit, cause Atlanta isn't my fucking jurisdiction and I'm off duty, damn it. And Ace waits, that damn smile never slipping, until Ginger Spice finally turns to slink off, then calls 'oh, wait, sugar- we never did get your name!'" 

Rick started laughing, head back against the seat of Shane's Jeep. "Shit, Shane. She sounds great." 

"She's awesome, my Slugger," Shane agreed. He rolled his eyes at the parking lot but pretended he didn't hear Rick's muttered 'yours?' "She's got this art show coming up, fancy-ass thing, real big deal. Did a bunch of sketches for it, for a cheaper option, and she was doing one up when I left her place that day- we were just standing there talking and she's sketching away, and next thing I know, there's my gun, safety strap loose, and the detail is just incredible. I already told Maria, who owns the gallery, that I'm buying that one. She called it 'Safety'." 

Rick made a noise in the back of his throat. "You going to her show? When is it?" 

"Hell yes, I am. It's next week. You're out of town, so no, you can't come. And no, I'm not dating her. She's on with the rockstar. Come on, we're gonna be late if you spend forever going over the same shit I been over with you before." 

"I thought you said we had an hour," Rick said dryly, but he let the subject change as he and Shane both waved to Casey and Torrez. 

Shane let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when they pulled into the meeting spot. Daryl leaned against his bike, one arm tossed around Ace's shoulders, and all Shane could think was 'thank god.' 

He scowled almost immediately, though. "She's supposed to be going to Hilltop with Maggie." 

Rick shot him an amused look as he opened the door. "You never really thought she'd do that, did you? Not without making sure Daryl was ok." 

"She shouldn't-"

"Haven't you figured out by now you can't tell your Slugger what she should or shouldn't do?" Rick said dryly. "Go make sure she's ok, and maybe just kiss her already so you two will stop whatever's going on between you." 

"I can't do that." He shoved a hand through his hair and sighed, because goddamn it, he wanted to. "She doesn't want me to." 

"Oh, I think you're wrong about that," Rick muttered. 

Shane scowled at him, ready to argue the point. Slugger had made herself damn clear, and he knew it, and Rick could-

"Dickhead! What the hell?" 

Rick didn't do a very good job of hiding his laughter as he turned away and Shane winced.


	47. Lie #47: "Stop Saying That." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

The shooting started, and you were right there at Maggie's side, shattering glass with everyone else. If you aimed too high, toward wide windows that showed a vast expanse of stars and colors in the night sky you'd never thought it possible to see, well. Who gave a shit? 

You'd considered trying to take out the big man himself, but that would have ended badly for you. 

Maggie was keeping the countdown in her head or something, because all the sudden she shouted "Now!" and the deafening noise of gunfire lessened. She grabbed your arm, heading for the car, and you followed after her like you were supposed to. 

Only, the thing was, you couldn't do it. 

Maggie and Enid were going straight back to Hilltop. Jesus, who hovered over the three of you as Maggie climbed in and laid on the horn, was going to his checkpoint. You were supposed to ride with Maggie and Enid, collect any updates, and head back to Alexandria from Hilltop. 

But you couldn't do it. You looked around at the firefight still raging, and Shane and Rick were still in the thick of it and Darrie was leading the herd and- 

"Ace, come on! Time to go!" Maggie yelled. 

You ducked down into the open window and smiled at them both. "I'm gonna hitch a ride to Rick's checkpoint, and I'll head to Alexandria from there. I'm leaving now, I promise," you added as the RV rolled toward the gate. "I'll be fine. Go home!" 

"Ace! Ace, come on!" Maggie yelled after you, but you'd spotted Francine falling back to a vehicle. 

You threw up your hand to wave her down, slung your rifle over your shoulder, and met Jesus' eyes for a minute. He nodded once, slapped Maggie's car and told her to get in gear, and dashed for his own. You felt a little bad for going against everyone's carefully laid plan for where you would go, but you couldn't just head home without knowing for sure that your brother was safe and so was Dickhead. 

Francine didn't do anything but smile when you swung into her car, and the sight of the herd closing in as your people streamed out just proved you'd made the right decision. 

You paced. 

The trees were quiet and so were the gathered people, white armbands standing out against the green of leaves and bright, bright blue of the sky. Such a gorgeous day, punctuated by sunlight and the click of bullets into magazines and magazines into guns. 

Darrie wasn't here yet, and neither were Rick and Dickhead. 

You were chewing on your thumbnail as you paced and seriously contemplating stealing a car and going back into that mess. You should have stayed and ridden back with Shane. Hell, you should have insisted on riding pillion for Daryl. It wasn't the first time you'd done it in stressful walker-herd-leading situations, and you'd saved his ass a couple times during that mess, now hadn't you? You should have- 

The roar of an engine split the silence and you whirled to glare at the bike as he pulled in. 

Daryl glared right back, setting the kickstand and cutting the engine with a scowl. "The fuck ya doin' here, sis?" 

You crossed your arms and didn't lighten your look, even though relief washed through you like a drug. God, you wanted a cigarette. No, you didn't. Darrie chose that moment to fish a carton from his pocket and light up, swinging around to lean in the saddle of the bike instead of straddling it. 

Yeah. You wanted a cigarette. 

"Oh, gee, I'm glad you're alive too!" you said brightly. 

Laughter ran through the gathered Alexandrians in a muted chuckle, and you saw the way Darrie's lips twitched as he took another drag. You both held your glaring poses a beat longer, then he shoved up to his feet and held his arm out. 

He didn't need to offer twice. You leaned in against him, hugging hard, and he would deny it but he held on just as tight. "Needed to make sure you were ok," you whispered. "You ok?" 

"I'm good," he whispered back. "Where's Rick? Shane?" 

You pulled away to look at him, jaw going tight with worry. His eyes flickered from your face to the road behind you as he eased back into the saddle. 

"Shit. What happened?" 

"Don't know," you admitted. "The RV blew just after Francine and I pulled out, and I thought they'd be right behind us, you know? I should have stayed." 

Daryl snorted and tossed his arm over your shoulders, pulling you in to lean against him. "Shut up. Ya shouldn't have been there in the first place, but ain't nothin' was gonna stop ya. Glad you followed at least part of the plan and booked it outta there. We'll wait a little longer, then I'll go take a look up the road a ways." 

"We will," you said firmly. 

Darrie tossed his head but didn't respond to that. "Want a cigarette?" 

"Oh, fuckin' bad," you said dryly. "Can't though. Demonspawn." 

"Right," Darrie muttered. "Ya know, there's all that doctor shit at Hilltop. Shoulda gone with Maggie, gotten checked out good." 

You sighed and started chewing on your fingernail again. "Why can't I just hate it, Dar?" 

"What? The baby?" 

You nodded. "It's Negan's. I should hate it. I should be wanting it to just go the fuck away as badly as I did Mark's. I should be trying to make it go away. But I'm not. What the fuck is wrong with me?" 

His arm tightened around you as he started to speak, but he cut off when the truck pulled into view. 

"Thank fuck," you whispered. Rick slid out and Shane followed, his eyes lingering on you until he turned to scowl at something Rick said. 

Temper flared up out of nowhere. What the hell was wrong with him? What had he been doing back there for so long? He could have gotten himself and Rick fucking killed, and then where would all of you be? Down your best leaders, that's where. 

"Dickhead! What the hell?" you yelled, striding toward him and ignoring Daryl's mutter and muffled laughter behind you. You planted your hands on your hips and glared at him as he turned, looking vaguely guilty. "Where the fuck have you two been?" 

"Pulling him away from getting himself pinned down by walkers because he was hell-bent on killing Negan," Rick said, leaning in and kissing your cheek. "Give him hell, then get on home, ok?" 

"Oh, I'll give you hell too, Rick Grimes," you shot back. "Don't try to tell me you weren't involved in whatever it was just as badly as Shane. I know you two too well." 

Shane started laughing seconds behind Daryl, and in moments the whole twisted group was cackling like you were doing a stand up routine or something. You closed your eyes and counted backwards from ten to get the raging Dixon temper under control before you did something colossally dumb. 

"Fine," you muttered through clenched teeth when you felt like you could speak without shrieking. "Laugh all you want. You two are going to be idiots no matter what, I guess. Glad you're finally here, at least." 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Shane said fondly. "Didn't mean to worry you. Speaking of being here- why the fuck are you? You're supposed to be halfway back to Hilltop with Maggie right now." 

"I changed my mind. Sue me. I needed to make sure my dumbass brother and my dumbass b-" you stumbled over the word and changed it rapidly, "- uh, dumbass friend didn't get themselves killed in phase one. I'm heading to Alexandria from here, just as soon as you all head out." 

There was a look on Shane's face, like he'd know what you'd started to say, and it was somewhere between pain and delight. Either way, it hurt you to see it, so you shoved your hair behind your ear and looked around at the group instead. 

Rick and Daryl had their heads together over a map, with Aaron, Tobin, and Francine nearby. They were clearly discussing the next phase in the operation, and Rick looked up and glanced around with a frown. 

"Hey, Shane," he called, jogging over, thank god, before Shane had a chance to say anything. "You seen Gabriel?" 

Shane frowned, scanned the crowd, and went pale. "No. I haven't. He was in his car- shit." 

They both turned and looked up the road, matching hard eyes and tight jaws that made you worry. 

"We can wait awhile longer," Darrie offered. You leaned back against him and he rubbed your arm, all four of you staring up the road now. 

"No. We can't. This isn't about us," Rick said softly. "He made sure I knew that. We need to move. Ace-" 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going back," you agreed. You turned to your brother and narrowed your eyes. "Don't be an idiot." 

Darrie tossed hair from his face and rolled his eyes. 

"I'm serious," you insisted, and kissed his cheek. Then you turned to Rick and fixed him with the same look. "You either. Work your magic. Watch their asses." 

"I'll do my best," Rick promised. 

You kissed him too, then took a deep breath and turned to Shane. Rick and Daryl both moved a little away and you fought the urge to roll your eyes like your brother. Shane was giving you that steady, slightly guarded look he'd had a lot since you'd gotten back, and it hurt. 

Everything about your best friend in the whole damn world hurt these days. 

"Be careful, Dickhead," you whispered finally. 

"I love you."

You closed your eyes and shook your head, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. "Stop saying that." 

Shane's lips brushed your cheek, his fingers gentle on your face. "Never. Get moving, Slugger. See you at home." 

You took Francine's car, and you cried as you drove away. 

You were maybe five minutes from Alexandria when you spied a familiar hat. You slowed down, cruised to a stop, and lifted an eyebrow at the sheepish-looking teenager who bent to peer through the open window at you. 

"Whatcha doin' there, Grimes Junior?" you asked after a beat. 

Carl's vaguely guilty expression increased. "Hey, Aunt Ace. Everything go ok?" 

"Went well enough," you said easily. "Carl." 

"Yeah?" 

You shook your head and sighed. "Get in the damn car, kid." 

"Yeah, ok," he muttered, and did as he was told. "So… the plan went ok?" 

"Plan went fine. They're trapped in the Sanctuary. Your dad, Shane, my brother are all on their way to their outpost. Maggie went back to Hilltop. The only hiccup is we don't know what happened to Gabriel, but I'm hoping he made it to the checkpoint after I left." You waited and Carl fidgeted. 

"Good. That's- that's good. Well, not about Father Gabriel, but-" 

"Carl," you interrupted him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. The kid was obviously up to something, and just as obviously didn't want to tell you. Clearly, you were going to make him. "What are you doing on the side of the road when you're supposed to be in charge of Alexandria's defenses?" 

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he demanded, finally turning to you. "You, Shane, Dad, Michonne- I don't get it. Why?" 

You pressed your lips together. "Because you're just like your father. Now. Spill it, Grimes." 

Carl sighed and rolled his eye. "I went to that gas station about five miles up." 

"Ok," you said when he didn't continue. "And… why?" 

He leaned his head back against the seat and sighed. "There was a man there. He didn't- he was hungry. He was alone. Dad shot at him, over his head, and he ran away. I took some food, left it with a note." 

You sat in silence and let all that digest for a minute. "Why?" 

"Because," he said with a shrug, meeting your look. "Because what's the point in doing all this if we don't keep trying to help people?" 

Huh. Well, the kid had a point there, you thought. You nodded slowly and put the car back in gear, starting for home. "Just like the prison. Good idea, poor execution. Shouldn't have gone alone, kid." 

"Well, you weren't here to go with me," he shot back, and you flashed him a grin and found a matching one on his lips. "I mean, who else was I supposed to take? This was my risk, and this way, I was the only one who would get hurt if it was a bad choice." 

"Ugh, self-sacrifice runs in your damn family, doesn't it?" you said with a grimace. "Kid, honestly- don't be a hero. Take backup." 

"So you'll go with me next time?" 

You pointed without looking at him. "Oh that is a bad plan, Mr. Grimes. That's the kind of plan that lands both of us in deep trouble. Of course I will." 

He laughed, like you'd known he would. "Thanks, Aunt Ace. So…" 

"So?" you asked when he trailed off. 

He hesitated, and you shot him a questioning look. Finally he sighed and turned to face you in the seat. "So, I have a question." 

"Oh god," you muttered. "This takes me back. What is it?" 

"It should, since it's about babies. Your baby in particular," Carl muttered. "You don't have to tell me anything, but… well, I was just wondering, are you sure it's Negan's?" 

You blinked rapidly and contemplated slamming on the breaks. "Carl. Kid. Why- why do you do this to me?" 

"You don't have to answer," he said immediately, sounding contrite. "It's just- I mean, Judith and my mom and dad and Shane, and you, and- babies are confusing." 

"Oh, yes, especially in the apocalypse," you agreed immediately. "Why are you asking that, specifically? About it being Negan's?" 

"I don't know," he admitted. "It just- you weren't with Negan for all that long, and I don't understand how your baby is absolutely Negan's but Judy was absolutely Shane's, even though- well, honestly, you were with Negan about the same amount of time Dad was back before Mom knew she was pregnant, and-" 

"Oh God," you muttered. This time the nausea running through you wasn't the demonspawn's fault, and you knew it. Then again, you were having this conversation with the kid because of the demonspawn, so maybe it was it's fault after all. "Ok. Uh. Well, I mean, I don't have any way of knowing for absolute certain until I can get an ultrasound, but it lines up, kid. When I started having symptoms, when Negan and I- I mean, the timing adds up. That’s how I know. As for your mom and Rick and Dickhead- Well, shit, kid. I assume your mom knew because she was keeping track, and- This is uncomfortable." 

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I would ask Michonne, but… you knew my mom," Carl said softly. "I miss her."

"I know you do," you agreed. "I miss my mom, and I barely remember her. Impressions, really. Darrie and I were so young. Merle remembers- remembered- her more than we did." 

Carl reached over and squeezed your hand as Alexandria came into view. "Thanks for always at least attempting to answer my questions, Aunt Ace." 

"Any time, kid. Any time. So, now what?" you asked, pulling through the gate and swinging the car around to park it facing out. 

Carl sighed. "Now, we wait." 

"Well, shit." 

"Yeah," he agreed. "That's about right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally thought I'd posted #46 last night, so you get two today!


	48. Lie #48: "I Might If We Get On With This Damn Game." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> mentions of past torture/psychological torture

There was one guard at the gate, just like D had said and Rick's recon had seen. Daryl took him down with a bolt through the eye, and Shane shook his head as he yanked it back out. 

"What?" Daryl snapped, sliding through the gate Rick had opened. "Need 'em all." 

"Oh, I know. I was thinking about how your sister always says she's a shit shot with that thing." Shane jogged with the other two up the winding path, hoping the rest of their team was getting by without any problems. The three of them would be royally fucked if the Saviors weren't pinned down in the courtyard, and were wandering around the outpost instead. 

Daryl tossed his head and flashed Shane the barest hint of the confident smirk he'd had a lot in the camp outside Atlanta. "She is a shit shot with it."

Shane laughed and rolled his eyes, and Daryl smiled back as he hitched the crossbow up on his shoulder. Abruptly he realized how little he saw Ace's brother smile these days, and for some reason that fact made Shane pissed as hell all over again. It'd started when the prison fell, he knew. The prison went down, along with everything they'd been working to build, and then Beth died. It'd gotten a little better- Daryl had gotten a little better- with having a home and his siblings and Judy and maybe even Shane himself, but then- 

Then Negan. Glenn and Abraham died, Daryl was put in the cell, Merle was gone, and Ace… Shit, he thought as they slowed to sneak closer. No wonder the man never looked happy anymore. Shane wondered if he looked as bad as Dixon did. 

There were two of them on the doors, and one had a radio that squawked in his hand as they approached. There was a low murmur of voices, then the shooting started. Both guards twisted to look through the doors and at each other, and Shane glanced at Rick. There was their moment, right? 

Rick shook his head, eyes narrowed as he waited, and Shane fidgeted impatiently. On his other side, Daryl was on one knee like he could hold that position for hours without twitching. Shane figured, what the all the hunting, he probably could. 

Shane, on the other hand, was ready to go now. They had to get in there, find the heavy artillery Negan kept in rotation outside the Sanctuary, and neutralize it before the Saviors tried to get the Sanctuary free. Guns like that could rip through the herd in no time, and their plans would go up less in smoke than in bullets. 

He shifted again and stared at the side of Rick's head, and his partner rolled his eyes and gestured for him to wait without ever taking his eyes off the guards. 

That was the problem with working together for so goddamn long, he grumped as he went back to staring at the guards as well. You knew each other too well. Shane was always the restless one in situations like this. Hell, if they were back home in King County, Rick would be muttering for Shane not to do anything stupid. 

"We heard the shots!" the big guy protested into his radio. 

The radio crackled and a commanding female voice, backed by louder gunfire, came through enough for Shane to gather she'd told them to stay put. The guard clicked off the radio and shook his head, looking annoyed, and Rick nodded. 

Shane didn't have to be told twice. He and Rick took them out in unison, blood staining the glass doors behind their heads. 

They were in. 

They cleared the bottom floor in no time, the three of them meeting back up in what Shane imagined had been the main lobby. 

"Ain't on this floor," Daryl informed them. 

Rick sighed, squinting at the message from Dwight. "Yeah." 

"Only option's up," Shane put in, contemplating the doorway marked 'stairs'. He'd already tried it, and whatever those assholes had done on the other side, it wasn't about to budge. 

Daryl grunted. "High ground. Good cover." 

"Yeah, I'd put them up there too."

"Stairs," Daryl said with a gesture at the same door Shane had already tried. 

He said nothing as Dixon rattled the doors, then kicked at them to try to break the lock. He waited until Dixon had gotten three solid hits, then laughed. Daryl whirled, scowling through the hair in his eyes Shane knew Ace would be ready to take scissors to. 

"Ya knew? Why didn't ya say nothin', asshole?" 

Shane shrugged. "More fun this way. And I was hoping you could get it after all, because the alternative route is not gonna be my idea of a good time."

Shane balanced on his toes, jammed his fingers into the narrow crack in the elevator doors, and pried them apart with a grunt. When they were open and he was relatively certain he wasn't about to die a grisly death of being chopped in two by a machine that no longer operated, he tossed his rifle through the opening and hauled himself, painfully, after it. 

Immediately he turned, grabbed Rick's hand, and pullede his best friend through as well. "Jesus, brother," he mumbled as Rick got a leg on the ledge and scrambled the rest of the way up. "You might be a skinny bastard, but when'd you get so heavy?" 

"Fuck you, 22," Rick muttered back as they both extended a hand to Daryl. Dixon climbed through barely looking tired, where Shane and Rick both slumped against the wall breathing hard. 

Shane flashed Rick a tired grin. "No thanks, darlin'; I've got a headache." 

"Shit. Forgot how much ya two fuckin' talk," Daryl snapped as he eased around the corner to check the dark hallway. "Would ya shut up for two damn seconds? This is the last floor." 

"Guns gotta be up here," Shane agreed. The three of them went back to back as they ducked around the corner, but there was no one- like the last seven floors they'd cleared already. The rest of their group was doing their part and keeping the bad guys pinned down and distracted. 

"He said they'd be here," Daryl agreed, not sounding like he thought they would be at all. 

Man's distrust of Dwight ran deep, and Shane couldn't blame him. Between what had happened out in the forest and the way Dwight had been the one torturing him, Shane wasn't sure he could have let D leave Alexandria, had he been in Daryl's shoes. Not even with him bringing Ace back.

As it was, Shane was fully down for the killing-him plan again after that double cross. Whether or not Dwight had known about it was irrelevant; Shane just really hated that guy. 

And if this information was wrong? Shane would move him to the top of the priority list and maybe give Dixon a hand with it all. 

"Everything else he passed to you is checking out," Rick said soothingly. 

Daryl wasn't in the mood to be mollified, and scoffed dramatically. "Guy's a piece of shit." 

"He brought your sister back, you know." 

Shane and Daryl glanced at each other and Shane shrugged. "He's still a piece of shit." 

"If those guns get to the Sanctuary, they could cut through those walkers and free up an exit," Rick hissed. The man was clearly over this discussion, and Shane figured he could understand why it would be frustrating, going around and around the same point. 

Rick's frustration did nothing to change his or Daryl's opinion of the man, however. 

"We know." Shane rolled his eyes at the hallway, because this had been a discussion about seventeen times and was the whole reason they'd changed their plan of attack for this outpost to include the three of them sneaking around in the dark. "We’ll go faster if we split up. Whoever finds the M2's, we use them. Hit the courtyard right then and there." 

"End this quick," Daryl agreed. "Watch ya asses." 

"Dixon, I didn't know you cared," Shane said dryly, clapping Rick on the back. 

Daryl tossed him a look over his shoulder as he started down a hallway. "Don't. My sister does, an' she'll kick mine if ya don't watch yours." 

Shane wasn't so sure about that sometimes, but he didn't think now was the time to get into it. He took off in the last direction, flipping Daryl off as he went. They had guns to find so they could get this shit on to phase three. 

Shane sighed and tossed his cards down. "I fold." 

"Aww, come on," Ace teased. "You can't fold. We're the only two playing, since someone decided to be a spoilsport about it!" 

Jason, leaning around her with a plate of nachos that he deposited in front of Shane, rolled his eyes. "You mean, 'someone decided to keep doing his job instead of sitting on the counter playing poker with the customers'." 

"Customer, singular. We bankrupted Mara already," Ace shot back. "And there's no one in here but the two of them." 

"So why don't you clock out and go sit down on the other side of the bar, then?" Jason asked dryly, pouring a couple fingers of Jameson over ice and replacing the fiery Irishwoman's empty glass. 

Shane lifted an eyebrow at Jason. "She's in the bathroom, man. How you know she wants another one?" 

Ace and Jason laughed in unison. Ace scooped up their cards and started shuffling as Shane looked between them with his eyebrows raised. 

"Sorry, didn't realize it was that stupid of a question," he said around bite of drool-worthy Lullaby loaded nachos. Honestly, Shane would come to this place for the goddamn food alone.

"It's not," Jason said with a shrug, putting the Jameson's away. "We just know Mara. She's here till we force her out, and she'll knock back Jaime rocks the whole time- but it'll be three total, and she'll eat with the third. Plus, she's Irish as hell. So don't worry about her driving, officer, she'll barely feel it." 

"Yeah, you only have to worry about Mara if she's doing Fireball shots. Then she'll put back a whole bottle before you realize it." Ace dealt cards, including a third pile she slid toward Jason. "Come on, man. It's empty. I'll clock out in thirty if no one else comes in, and if they do, we can quit." 

Jason hesitated, but he scooped up the cards and fanned them out. "Fine. Don't get mad when I leave you and your boyfriend here broke as hell." 

"Bold words, Jase," Ace said slowly, a predatory gleam lighting in her eyes. "Up the ante then?" 

"What'd you have in mind?" Jason asked, studying his cards with a carefully blank expression. 

Shane sighed. "Are you two trying to make me drunk and broke? Is that the plan?" 

"Well, it's not, but it could be. I need to test a cocktail," Ace said, tossing him a wink. 

"Are you trying to murder him? Ace, he's a cop. He has no money for you to inherit." 

"I might if we get on with this damn game. Come on, dealer. Do your job!" Shane teased, sliding over two cards for Ace to replace. If he got lucky, these two wouldn't scalp him for all he was worth. 

"Just lookin' out for you, man. Because I care," Jason said dryly. "Beer?" 

"Yeah. I'm crashing on your couch tonight, Slugger."

"Sure," Ace answered absently. "I even have coffee for you tomorrow. Because I also care. And because you're going to need a consolation prize. Read 'em and weep, boys." 

Place wasn't that big, so it wouldn't take them long. Most of it was office space converted into sleeping quarters, similar to what Daryl had described about the Sanctuary. Shane had gone through four of them and was about to hit a fifth when Daryl appeared at the opposite end of the hallway, crossbow sweeping. 

He saw Shane and nodded, pointing at the doorway on his end. Shane shook his head, cause he hadn't made it there yet, and Dixon nodded back sharply. They hit their doors at the same time, and Shane found himself in the first office that still looked like an office, complete with cubicles and flimsy partitions strewn around. 

He ducked through like he'd been trained, staying low as he cleared what was obviously an outpost dumping ground. There was nothing there, and he hadn't heard any sounds of heavy artillery, which meant the other two hadn't found the guns either. Shane was starting to wonder if Dwight had lied to them about something after all. 

He headed to Daryl's room to back him up, shoving a frustrated hand through his hair. Where the fuck were the damn things? If Rick hadn't located them, they were fucked. 

If they even existed. Maybe Dwight had sent them on some kind of wild goose chase to keep them busy so he could work on the escape. 

On the other hand, why would all the rest of his information check out? And that bastard had no way of knowing that they were planning to trap the Saviors in the Sanctuary, because Ace and Daryl's message had only said "tomorrow", so why would he have- 

Shane's mental process cut off abruptly when he saw Dixon standing still in front of an open closet door, bow lowered and something in his shoulders that made Shane's go tense. He scuffed the floor as he approached so he didn't get shot or stabbed, and Daryl glanced his way without reacting. 

That alone was worrisome, in Shane's opinion. Dixons were always on high alert. He lowered his rifle as he reached Daryl's side and braced himself to look into the closet. 

A can of dog food, open and empty, lay on the floor beside a plate with half a sandwich on it. There was a stain nearby Shane didn't want to identify and empty handcuffs attached to a pipe. The handcuffs weren't silver anymore. 

Shane sighed. "You ok, man?" 

Daryl scoffed, but he didn't turn away or tell Shane to go to hell. After a pause, while Shane patiently waited and studied him without making it seem like he was studying him, Daryl lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Shit happens." 

"Yeah, it does. Especially right now. That shit?" he jerked his chin in the direction of the handcuff and the dog food sandwich. "That shit shouldn't happen." 

"Ain't that what all you pig bastards do?"

Shane sighed. "You know, man, I'm gonna let that one go. Mostly cause Slugger'll have my head if I punch you without a real good reason." 

"Ace wouldn't even question it; she'll assume I did somethin' to earn it," Daryl said with a snort. 

Shane almost laughed. "You usually do. Daryl. You and your damn sister are too much alike. You told me some of it, and I'm fuckin' glad you did. You need to talk some more? I'll listen. You need someone to hold an extra knife while you carve that bastard Dwight to ribbons? I can do that too." 

"Shit, Walsh." 

"Shut up. I'm serious."

Daryl slapped him on the shoulder and turned resolutely for the door. "Yeah. Thanks. Thing is though, I ain't lookin' to go steady, Dickhead." 

"I wasn't asking you to, Darrie." 

Shane considered it a win when Daryl flashed him an appreciative grin as they left the office.


	49. Lie #49: "I Didn't Do Anything, Man." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> minor character death
> 
> *** Amber Alert and mentions of child death***

They found Rick. They also found a fucking baby, and a blast from the past Shane had not expected. 

Morales held Rick at gunpoint, going on about what happened on the road and how Rick was as much a monster now as any of them, and Shane stared at the scene without any fucking clue what to do. Especially since he was holding a baby girl, who according to the wall above her crib, was named Gracie. 

She'd been crying when they came in, and she'd stopped as soon as Shane scooped her up. 

He looked wildly at Daryl, Daryl lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and Daryl put Morales down. Rick objected, Daryl showed he clearly gave exactly zero fucks, and Shane sided with Daryl. 

The bigger problem was, they found no guns. And Morales had called the Saviors back from the courtyard, which meant the three of them- four if you counted the baby, and Shane sure as shit did- were about to be in one of those fun situations Shane was getting fucking tired of.

There was a moment where he was fairly certain he was going to die, but between Rick's magic, Daryl's stubborn streak, and some pure dumb luck, they made it. Rick and Daryl shot a goddamn fire extinguisher with the last of their rounds, then chucked a couple men down the open elevator shaft, and the luck kicked in when their people came to the rescue, guns blazing. The battle in the courtyard was over, and the outpost was theirs.

They'd lost seven of their own, with more injured, and Shane would carry the devastated look on Aaron's face with him for a long time. 

He remembered when they'd met Aaron and Eric, all of Rick's people half-dead and desperate. They'd been a welcoming presence and had helped the Dixons- especially Daryl- adjust to semi-civilized life again. Shane would miss Eric as well, and he couldn't even imagine how Aaron was able to cope. 

God knew Shane hadn't coped well at all when he'd thought Slugger was gone.

But with the guns not being there and the discovery of the baby, Aaron volunteered to take her and Maggie's copy of Rick's update letter to Hilltop so Shane could go with Rick. Shane was grateful, and he knew Aaron needed something to focus on right then, so he kissed Gracie's head and handed her over easily. She'd be safe with Maggie, safe and loved. 

Since they'd killed her parents, Shane figured they owed it to her. 

“Hey, brother. Rinse the soap and get back on uniform,” Shane called wearily. 

Rick’s head, shampoo in his hair, popped around the corner. “What happened?” 

“Got an Amber Alert. Sheriff says all hands on deck.” 

Rick’s face shut down. “Can you-“

“Call Lor? Already on it,” Shane answered. Rick nodded once and disappeared, and Shane hit the button on his phone as he headed to the cage for his shotgun. “Hey, Lori. We’re fine, but we got an Amber. Rick won’t be home any time soon after all.” 

"You're coming to my house," Rick said, soft but firm, five hours later. 

Shane sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. "I don't know, man. I'm not sure I'm up for that." 

"You're not going home alone," he insisted, that stubborn bastard look coming into his eyes. 

Shane wanted nothing more than shot of Jack, a scalding hot shower, and to collapse- alone- into his bed. He wanted to forget all about this goddamn day, about a tiny body and- 

He jerked when his phone buzzed, and Rick frowned as he scooped it out of his pocket. Shane couldn't help the soft smile when he saw the name and the message. "It's Slugger." 

"I figured," Rick said dryly. 

\--- Hey, Walsh. Heard they found a kid out your way. If you were on that, call me. If not, call me anyway; long time no talk. 

\--- Hey. Just got released by the sheriff. I was there.

The response was damn near instant, and Shane shook his head as he squinted at the time. She was still working; why the hell was she on her phone? Must have been slow as fuck at the bar. 

\--- Shit. Call me. Or- 

The picture came in next, a bottle of Jack beside a can of Coke and a tall glass. A napkin was propped up against the glass with a question mark and Ace's tag scrawled on it in Sharpie, and Shane half-laughed and started to say he'd call her later. 

Then he stopped, considering. He wouldn't be sleeping any time this decade, wherever he went, since already whenever he stopped actively thinking about something else, that little girl's jacket flashed into his mind, cheerful pink at odds with the murky, muddy water all around. Maybe Atlanta wasn't such a bad idea, after all. He'd told Slugger about some of the worst of the bullshit before, and Rick was right. He shouldn't go home alone. Not today. 

\--- I'll be there in an hour and a half. Maybe less. Order me nachos. 

She sent back those dumbass emoji things, a thumbs up and a heart in pink that had Shane shaking his head at her again as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket. "Goin' to Atlanta, brother," he said when he met Rick's half-amused, half-concerned look. "I won't be alone." 

"Do yourself a favor and don't hook up with her tonight." 

Shane blinked, fully not certain how to respond to that. "What the fuck?" 

"You had a shit day. Don't make it worse by doing anything stupid. Ask her out on a proper date if you want, but don't hook up with her, or you'll both regret it," Rick said with a shrug. "And text me when you get there, so I know you're off the road." 

"Yes, mom," Shane muttered, trying to ignore Rick's unsolicited advice. Slugger wouldn't think he was- naw. They'd done this enough by now, she knew he just needed an ear and maybe a hug. Nothing more. Rick could kiss his ass. 

Rick chose to grab him into a tight hug instead. "Hell of a thing you did, 22. Tried your goddamn hardest, and we all know it. Turn your mind off. Try to sleep some." 

"I didn't do anything, man," Shane managed around the lump in his throat. "We were too late."

"Yeah. Doesn't mean you didn’t do everything you could." Rick slapped him on the back and let him go, a haunted look in his eyes that Shane figured probably matched his. 

The kids were the hardest, he thought grimly. "Go home, brother. Hug your wife and son," he ordered. "I'm fine. Going to drink awhile, then fall asleep watching Slugger paint something amazing. I'll send you a picture in the morning." 

Rick shot him another look, but nodded, slapped him on the back again, and headed for his car, phone to his ear to call Lori. Shane stood there wondering if this was worth the long drive, honestly, because he was exhausted and needed to go the fuck to sleep. And it wasn't like he'd be much company tonight, anyway, he thought, and his own phone started buzzing again in his pocket.

He smiled down at a bandana and laughing eyes and unlocked his Jeep. "Hey, girl. The fuck you doin' on the phone? You're working." 

"You sure you two wanna talk to them assholes alone?" Daryl asked, sneer in his voice. 

"Yeah," Rick said before Shane could speak. "That's how it gets done." 

Daryl snorted. "If you're gone too long, I'm gonna come lookin' for ya." 

"That's the plan," Shane agreed, right before the bullets started flying. 

He grabbed Rick and hit the deck, fumbling for his gun while scanning rapidly to figure out who the fuck was shooting at them. Daryl popped a few rounds back, but of course Rick was in the mood to talk. 

He made the shooter a deal, giving his word that if whoever it was told them what they needed to know, he'd let him go. 

"There's not a lot that's worth much these days, but a man's word- that's gotta mean something, right?" Rick called. 

And it did, at least to Rick. Shane shot Daryl a look when the shooter- no more than a kid, honestly- came out with his hands up, asking what they wanted to know. Daryl looked grimly back, and Shane could have sworn he heard Daryl thinking 'shit, man, it's your wife'.

The kid told them the guns got sent to an outpost west of them just yesterday, and Shane's blood ran cold. West was Carol and the Kingdom, and they'd have to haul fucking ass to get there. 

"Can I, uh- Can I go?" the kid asked when Rick didn't say anything else. 

Daryl shot him in the head. Shane jerked like Rick did, but he wasn't sure why either of them were surprised. Daryl had taken down Morales with no hesitation and no qualms. This was some random punk ass who'd probably killed some of theirs. 

And Daryl wasn't playing around with taking these bastards down. He was here for results, and he was getting them.

Shane shrugged and shoved his gun back in the holster. "So, Dixon, coming with us?"

Rick was not so comfortable with things, apparently, but he didn't say a word. Shane and Daryl exchanged a look as Rick strode for the Jeep they'd claimed, and Shane shrugged. Daryl grunted and swung onto the bike. 

"Which team's at Gavin's?" he asked. 

"The Kingdom." 

"Shit. Catch up to ya boyfriend or hop on then," Daryl said with a jerk of his chin. He kicked the bike to life, grinning when Shane flipped him off expressionlessly and followed Rick. 

Rick seethed quietly in the Jeep until Shane finally turned, looked at him, and shoved a hand through his hair. "Daryl's right, you know." 

"No. Daryl isn't," Rick said, stubborn bastard all up in his expression and his tone. "Daryl is angry and-" 

"And nothin', brother. Daryl is angry, and he has every right to be. We all do. Doesn't make him wrong about Morales, or about that asshole." 

"I gave my word!" Rick snarled. "And we knew Morales- you knew him longer than I did!" 

Shane sighed and drummed his fingers on the doorframe. "I did. I knew him just enough to know he was a decent man back at the beginning. But he had a gun on my best friend, and from what I heard, he didn't give two shits that he knew you. He needed to be put down, Rick. Know how I know? Cause I've been him. Cause I would be him again, in a heartbeat, if Ace was gone. He lost his whole family, man. You and I know what that's like," he said softly. He shook his head and sighed. "We didn't know him anymore. He was just another Savior." 

"Like we're just another community to them," Rick said. "Like Abraham and Glenn were just more assholes." 

Shane didn't have anything to say to that, really, but he was spared a response when an army truck came out of nowhere, flying down the road with a grim-faced driver. Rick floored it, and Dixon's bike roared like a hungry beast as he took off like a shot in pursuit. 

"Gotta be the guns," Rick said. All trace of their almost-argument was gone, and for half a second, Shane found himself reaching forward in the Jeep for a radio that wasn't there to call in the pursuit. 

He laughed at himself instead, glancing at Rick with a grin. 

"What?" Rick demanded. "What the hell you smiling about?" 

"Just like old times, right, brother?" Shane whooped and slapped the side of the Jeep, leaning forward in his seat and pulling out his gun. 

Rick sighed. "Shut up, 22. Put your seatbelt on." 

Oh yeah, just like old times, he thought, and took aim at a tire. 

Things got gnarly when the tailgate of the Savior's vehicle dropped and an asshole started firing at them. Daryl wrecked out on the bike and Shane was worried about him, but he and Rick were too busy not getting dead for Shane to worry about it long. 

And then dumb luck, Shane's favorite bitch, was on their side for once. Walkers in the road- a hazard Shane thought everyone ought to be used to by now, but it kept surprising people- sent the shooter flying. He recovered and got a solid hit on the Jeep's engine, but by then Dixon was back and the shooter went down with two hits. 

Then Rick got that look, tossed it Shane's way, and yelled "take the wheel" just before jumping from the Jeep to the Savior's vehicle. Between screaming expletives at Rick and more trying not to die, he wasn't entirely sure how Rick took the man out, but he did. 

And wrecked the truck. Spectacularly. 

Shane and Daryl hit the guard rail on the side of the hill at the same time, both of them staring down at the truck on its side and smoking. "Shit," Shane muttered. "Rick! Rick!" 

"Shut up and help me, asshole," Rick grunted. 

Shane closed his eyes and ran a shaking hand over his face as the overgrown vegetation on the hill started rustling and Rick appeared. "No. You're a dumbass, you get to haul your own dumb ass up the damn hill. What the fuck, man?" 

"It worked, didn't it?" Rick said. "That's what you two always tell me. Thanks," he added when Daryl grabbed his hand and pulled him the rest of the way up. 

"Both of ya idiots," Daryl muttered. "Them the guns?" 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "We got the guns." 

"You look like shit," Daryl informed him, eyes on the truck. 

Shane pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Let's go see if Rick's asshole over there is alive. Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE I DO IN FACT LIVE
> 
> Thanks for sticking through the mini-hiatus! I've been on vacation and trying to get back into the usual swing of my life, but I am BACK now, really. Honestly. I promise.


	50. Lie #50: "I Mean It, Dixon. I'll Beat Your Ass If You Do." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

The asshole was, surprisingly, alive. Shane studied the knife sticking into his stomach and the blood bubbling on his lips and determined that to not be the case for very much longer. It made him almost impressed that the motherfucker was trying to crawl away from them when they walked up. 

"Your people back in the chemical plant- did you win?" Rick asked, tone dangerously soft.

"No one did," the asshole croaked.

Daryl sneered. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" 

The asshole coughed and bled and didn't answer until Daryl kicked him in the shoulder, shoved a gun in his face, and asked again. "Everyone's dead," he said finally. 

"Bullshit." 

Shane grabbed Daryl's shoulder, knowing how close Dixon and Carol were. He remembered Daryl finding her and bringing her up out of the tombs after things had gone badly at the prison, and if Carol were dead- Shit, he didn't want to think about it. He also didn't want Daryl to just shoot the dying bastard outright, which he thought for a moment was a real possibility.

"There's no one else? You're the only one?" Rick demanded. 

The asshole coughed some more. "Me. The King. The Axe Man. And a short-haired psycho lady." 

Shane couldn't help it. He fucking snorted out a laugh at that description, and Daryl shot him a look with amusement dancing in his eyes as well. "She'd like that and we all know it," Shane said with a shrug before sobering. 

The whole fighting force of the Kingdom, dead in one fell swoop. Only Carol, Ezekiel himself, and Jerry left. Fucking hell. 

"You did this," the asshole accused. "My people. Your people. They're all gone." 

Shane walked away when Dixon did. The man was on his way out; why waste a bullet? 

Rick stayed to put a knife in his brain before he turned.

Something had crawled up Dixon's ass and seemed to have taken up residence. Shane wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he suspected it had something to do with finding the handcuffs in the closet, the baby, and now the Kingdom being wrecked and mostly dead. Honestly, they weren't having the best day, and if Shane was feeling it- which he was- Daryl was probably holding onto that Dixon temper by sheer power of will and the fact that he liked Rick and Shane at least a little bit. 

He made his way down the embankment to the wrecked out truck without a word. Shane didn't think that was the best idea in the world, what with the way it was leaking fuel and still smoking, but there were some awful big guns in there, and Shane assumed the ammo would be too. He sighed and started following Daryl down, wondering once again why it was so damned hard to get these stubborn Dixons to just fucking talk about shit. 

Rick wasn't far behind him, and Shane jerked his chin in Daryl's direction. "Something's up." 

"With Daryl? Yeah," Rick agreed. "He'll be ok though. Once we finish this." 

They rounded the truck and Daryl glanced at them, already occupied in trying to get a box of ammo out of the truck. "Hey. Gimme a hand with this."

They wrestled the first box out and Dixon went back for another, with Rick stopping to open what they'd grabbed. Rick's low whistle had Shane turning, and his eyebrows shot up at the contents of the box- not only ammo, but charges and explosives. He and Rick looked at each other and Shane saw the same questions in Rick's eyes that he was thinking. How much more was there? What were these bastards planning on doing with it? And what did it mean for Rick's plan now? 

Daryl had neither questions nor concerns, it seemed. He'd snagged a bag somewhere and promptly started loading explosives into it. "We can use these now." 

"What?" Shane asked, glancing between Daryl and Rick. Rick's whole face had shut down, the way it had back on the farm when Shane had been at his asshole best, and he felt like he was missing something fucking critical here. 

"Think about it," Daryl insisted. "Ain't no Kingdom no more." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. 

"Well, we know what we got to do." 

"What the hell am I missing?" Shane demanded. He crossed his arms as he stood between them, wondering when he'd been elected fucking mediator again. He hadn't done so hot with it last time; and this one didn't feel like it was going to go much better. 

"We blow a hole in the side of the Sanctuary. Let the walkers flood in. They'll surrender," Daryl said, tone matter of fact and set. "It'll be done. Hell, we could end this by sundown!"

Clearly, this was an argument they'd had before, Shane thought in mild despair as Rick sighed and rose. Just as clearly, they were on opposite sides here. 

"But they have workers in there, right?" Rick asked. "Families, too. Are there?" 

Daryl wasn't immune to the stubborn bastard look, and he dropped his eyes to the explosives bag in his hands. Shane thought for a minute they were done, that Rick's logic and magic had worked. Then Daryl's face turned intense; his voice pleading. "We'll hit the south side of the main building. The workers live in the north side. They'll be up the stairs before the walkers even get in." 

Shane's eyes narrowed as he watched the two of them. Daryl had his own stubborn bastard look, and Shane wondered why neither of them had mentioned this sort of option to him before when it was clearly an old argument between the two of them. 

"What if they don't?" he asked, just to play devil's advocate. Dixon's eyes shot to him, annoyed and betrayed, and Shane shrugged. "I'm just asking, man. There's people in there who aren't fighters." 

"And doing this could change that," Rick insistent. "Make them pick up guns and stand by the Saviors. And if the Saviors don't surrender, maybe everyone fights us. And we don't have the Kingdom anymore." 

Not where Shane had been going with that, but it was also a valid point. Then Rick shook his head, giving Daryl that damn look, like when he'd declared himself dictator of the Republic of Rick. 

"We're not doin' this," Rick insisted. 

Shane sighed when Daryl's lip curled in a tight sneer. "Dixon-" 

"Naw," Daryl interrupted him, eyes on Rick. "You ain't doing this."

It was the shoulder shove that did it, Shane thought mildly as he watched the two of them. It was a lash out on Daryl's part, but Rick hadn't had the best day either, and as Shane could well attest, no one fought like friends. 

Rick tried words again, but Daryl wasn't having it. Shane turned and wandered a few feet away, so he could keep an eye on them and their surroundings when the punches started. If he had to, he'd pull an Ace and lob something over their heads to get them to pay attention. 

"Bad idea," Shane mumbled when Rick grabbed Daryl's shoulder for the second time, insisting that he wasn't letting Dixon do this. 

Daryl- who had, in Shane's opinion, showed just how much he liked and respected Rick by not clocking him in the nose the first time Rick had grabbed his shoulder- turned around swinging. Shane saw the brief flash of regret as Rick went down, but Daryl was determined. 

"This ain't your choice," Daryl spat at him, and turned, once again, to go. 

Daryl didn't really want to fight, but apparently Rick did. Shane shook his head when Rick exploded up and tackled Dixon, knowing damn well there was a lot strength in that wiry body, and when Rick got pissed he fought like he was feral. 

Shane remembered Dixon tossing a bunch of squirrels Rick's way once and going after him like a rabid dog, but Daryl had matured since then. Shane watched impassively as Dixon got the upper hand, grabbed Rick by the throat, and calmly smashed a fist down to where Rick's face should have been. He winced a little when Daryl hit ground instead, because shit that had to have hurt, and Rick scrambled free, grabbed the bag of explosives, and wasted his advantage chucking it into the truck. 

Shane got distracted by said truck then and forgot to referee, and when he looked back Dixon had Rick in the same goddamn choke hold Shane had used to subdue Daryl that time with the squirrels, when he and Rick had first met. 

"Hey, assholes. Truck's on fire," he informed them both, grabbing Daryl by the back of his shirt as he started hauling ass away. "Gonna blow." 

"Shit! Get up!" Daryl yelled, panic in his voice as they both saw it. He hauled Rick to his feet and Shane fought the urge to roll his eyes as the three of them took off running. 

He wondered if this was how Ace had felt when he and Rick got into that fight, back when Rick hadn't let her shoot that punk ass kid. And if it was how Beth had felt when he and Daryl had come to blows for no real reason other than grief and rage. 

He knew damn well that was the bulk of the reason behind this fight, too- grief and rage and stress. 

The explosion sent the three of them flying.

When the fireworks finally died down, they made their wat back up the embankment in silence. Shane glanced between the two of them when they went in opposite directions to vehicles, rolled his eyes toward the sky, and followed Daryl. 

"Hey. Wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?" he asked as he fell in step with Ace's twin. 

He was doing what Ace would have described as 'the angry stalk', not aware that she did the exact same thing when she was pissed, and he shot Shane a look that could have set off the explosives all on its own. "Endin' this shit, but that stubborn ass don't see it." 

"He is a stubborn ass. So are you," Shane agreed mildly. "So am I. What the hell, Dixon?" 

"He pissed me off. Why ain't ya come down on my side? We can end this!" Daryl insisted, grabbing his bike and yanking it upright. He tossed his hair from his eyes and glared even harder, and Shane held both hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. 

"I'm neutral, man. It might have worked. It might have gotten a lot of innocent people killed. I got no problem killing those that need it, but I'm not on the side of killing innocents and children," Shane said firmly. "I'd need a hell of a lot more information and planning before I made a decision either way on it." 

"Yeah, well. Point's fuckin' moot now, ain't it?" Daryl muttered. He kicked his bike to life before Shane could respond, and jerked his chin toward Rick. "Comin'?" 

Shane sighed and climbed on the back of the bike. At least Dixon was talking to him.

The Jeep wouldn't start. Shane climbed off when Daryl pulled up, and sighed again- he was doing a lot of that- when the two of them didn't look at each other properly. Rick grabbed the camera and Shane grabbed the rifle, all while Daryl stared straight ahead looking pissed. 

"There's a plan," Rick insisted. "We got to see it through." 

"We gotta win," Daryl said finally. He still didn't look at Rick, but Shane was glad he fucking spoke. 

"Yeah. We gotta," Rick agreed. He paused, tone shifting. "Choke hold's illegal, asshole." 

Shane leaned on the side of the Jeep and laughed his ass off. Daryl shot him an annoyed look, but Shane saw the way his lips twitched. 

"Mmhhmm," Daryl said, still not looking at Rick. "Yes; it is." 

"File a fucking complaint," Shane said when he managed to get himself under control. "Glad we're all acting like adults here. We walkin', brother?" 

"Yep," Daryl snapped, firing up his bike. "You are. I ain't passing on any love notes, Walsh, but if you take too long I ain't gonna be able to stop my sister from coming after ya her damn self." 

"You damn well better not let her," Shane snapped. "I mean it, Dixon. I'll beat your ass if you do." 

"You'll try," he muttered. "You two sure about this?" 

Rick sighed. "Yeah. We'll meet you when we're done." 

Daryl shot Shane a look, nodded once, and roared off down the road. Shane fell into step with Rick, heading in the opposite direction. "Well," he said dryly. "That was fun." 

"Shut up," Rick muttered. 

They picked up the letters along the way; check-ins from the communities eft at their prearranged drop point. Carol told them what had happened to the Kingdom. Ezekiel wasn't taking it well. They'd probably not have any backup from the Kingdom for phase three, but Shane had been expecting that. 

He hadn't been expecting Jesus to take prisoners and bring them to the Hilltop, or Maggie to be holding them outside her gates until she made a decision on what to do. She'd let them live, of course. Shane knew she would. Maggie Greene Rhee was a bloodthirsty bitch along with the rest of them, but she wouldn't kill prisoners outright. 

"Lookouts are still around the compound," Rick said when they'd finished the letters. "We're still doing this. They're still getting weaker." 

"Who you trying to convince, brother? Daryl's not here," Shane said. "I am. I've got your back." 

"I know," Rick said. He glanced at Shane as they slowed down, the garbage dump's entrance in sight. "How dumb were we back there?" 

"You shouldn't have grabbed him like that," Shane answered honestly. "He's a Dixon. He held off slugging you for it once. The second time, you earned the punch. And you probably should have just stayed down. He was trying to walk away." 

"And take the explosives with him!" Rick snapped. 

Shane shrugged. "Yeah. And would it be that bad?" 

"You know it would," Rick insisted, leveling Shane with the stubborn bastard expression. 

Shane shrugged again. "Maybe. Maybe not. We're past that now. Make up when we get home. We gonna do this or what?" 

Rick held his look a bit longer, eyes narrowed on Shane's mild expression, before turning to the doors. "Yeah. Let's do this." 

Shane knocked. "I really hate these guys. Jadis is gonna try to fuck you again, you know that right? You willing to put out to seal this deal?" 

"Fuck you, 22." 

"Not now, honey, I've got a headache," Shane deadpanned back. 

The door creaked open.


	51. Lie #51: "You Had To Stop Thinking of Him As Yours." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

You stared at the wall beside the gate in disgust. 

The Saviors were assholes. Hands down. There was no denying that. But defacing your paintings? What was it about totalitarian regimes that made destroying artwork so goddamn popular? 

The Governor had done this shit in the prison, though you suspected that had been more Malcolm than anyone else. And now in Alexandria there were at least five that needed attention and one you were pretty sure was beyond repair and would probably end up being sanded down and painted over. 

You were starting here, with the sunrise over Alexandria, because you couldn't bear to start with any of the ones on your house. And besides, this one was for everyone. Having it fixed would hopefully restore some of the sense of community and peace this place had been working toward, before Negan. 

The bag of paint and supplies your brother had ended up dying over lay open at your feet, and you stared down into it without making a move to pick anything up. Merle would call you and idiot and hand you a can impatiently- one you didn't even need- and tell you to stop blaming yourself for shit. 

His face sprang into your mind, grey and gaunt and hollow, and you pressed a hand to your mouth to try to keep from throwing up. 

That was not how you were going to remember him, you ordered yourself fiercely. He was a goddamn Dixon. You'd think of him handing you your first sketchbook, or standing between you and Will, or hovering at the foot of your hospital bed and asking if he could kill Mal. You'd remember him hugging you so tight you couldn't breathe, after the prison fell; complaining about having to cook dinner when he only had the one hand; teasing you and Shane about being loud. 

Hell, you'd think of him strung out and spewing racist, sexist garbage as you loaded him into your car at the PD before you thought about him on that damn fence.

"Fuck you, Negan," you muttered at the bag at your feet. "You don't get to win." 

You scooped up your first color and went to work. 

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours later. As usual, you had no idea. What you did know was you were thirsty and hungry, and you'd gotten the first steps of repair done to your satisfaction. 

You eyed the remaining damage as you chugged water, and movement caught your eye. 

Michonne climbed into a car, looking downright sketchy. Seeing as how she'd been beaten to hell and back and was supposed to be staying here to recover, you found yourself wondering just where the hell she thought she was going. Then Rosita appeared and you started to relax. Rosita would get her to stay put. Rosita would- 

Rosita climbed in the car with her. 

You shook your head in disbelief when they drove off. Michonne caught your eye and gave you a guilty wave as they went. 

"Dumbasses," you muttered, and went back to work. 

Tara came back and gave you an update when she saw you by the gate. Her team had gone to the satellite outpost. There'd been some complications- a 'moat' made of walkers had been the first- and they'd lost some people. 

They'd also taken most of the Saviors inside hostage, at Jesus' insistence. Then they'd marched them to Hilltop, where Maggie engaged in a debate over letting them live or not. Tara, disgusted, was clearly on the side of killing them all and just as clearly thought Maggie wouldn't.

You knew Tara was right about one of those things, and you were sort of in her camp on the other, as well. They should probably all be killed, for safety's sake. On the other hand, that made you no better than the people you were trying to get out from under. 

On the other other hand, the right choice was what kept you alive. 

You missed your Dickhead, and you grimaced at the wall as you reminded yourself you had to stop thinking of him as yours. After all, he wasn't anymore. 

You didn’t know how long it was between Tara getting back and the approaching roar of an engine you knew well, but it drew you out of the paint haze you'd slipped back into. Dumping the can back on top of your bag, you crossed your arms and waited as the gate was opened slowly. 

The bike shot through, Darrie looking pissed as hell on it, and your stomach clenched in instant worry. Something had happened, hadn't it? 

He didn't see you by the wall, so you scooped up your gear bag with shaking hands and started for home. If anything had happened to Shane- 

You swallowed down the nausea and swiped a hand over your face. It was a short walk to home, but worry made it seem like an eternity. 

You were reaching for the door when it was ripped open from the inside, and you blinked at where the handle had been two seconds before and then at your brother's irritated face. "Hey." 

"Hey. Where ya fuckin' been?" 

Now he wasn't the only one irritated, you thought as he turned around and stalked back into the house. He went for the cabinet with the last of Merle's homebrew and your teeth ground together. You closed the door, dumped your bag, and crossed your arms as you glared at the back of his head. "You really need that? I was by the gate, working on that painting they fucked up. Saw you come in. What happened? Rick and Shane ok?" 

"Yeah, Dickhead and Officer Friendly are fine," Daryl snapped, taking a pull straight from the bottle that made you wince. "Fuckin' stubborn, but they's fine." 

"Uh-oh," you mumbled when he took another hit and grimaced. You leaned on the counter and lifted an eyebrow at him. "What happened? Also, don't call him Dickhead." 

"Call him whatever the fuck I want when he's bein' dumb. So are you." 

"What the hell do I have to do with it?" you demanded, bewildered. 

Darrie grimaced again, capped the jug, and put it back. "Nothin'. Just tired of seein' ya sad. Got in a fight with Rick." 

"Ok," you said slowly, shoving a hand through your hair and trying to process the whiplash of this conversation. "Not the first time." 

"I put him in a choke hold, sis." 

You blinked rapidly. "Ok, maybe the first time for that. What the fuck, Darrie?" 

"We found the guns. But the Kingdom- sis, there ain't a Kingdom no more. Only three made it out were Carol, Ezekiel, and Jerry," Daryl's hand curled into a fist and you grabbed it and held on. 

"Shit," you whispered. "Holy shit. What happened?" 

"Fuckin' Dwight. Guns had been moved. He wouldn't'a known, but still. We got 'em- some asshole almost escaped with 'em, but Rick, Shane, and I, we got him. And there's explosives in the truck too. So I told them, we take the explosives, put a hole in the wall in the Sanctuary, let the walkers in, and end it quick. They'd fuckin' surrender, right?" Daryl's voice was urgent, his hand gripping yours and an expression others would have read as pissed off on his face. 

You knew better. He was pissed, sure. But that look was more than that, and you wondered what had happened out there. "Darrie. I mean, yeah, sure, but what about-" 

"Blow it on the south. Workers'n shit are on the north," he interrupted you. Eyes intense, he leaned across the table. "We'd do it. End it by fuckin' sundown." 

You hesitated, and he scoffed and let go of your hands to pace. 

"That's what Rick and ya cop did! Walsh ain't said a word, Rick's all 'we ain't doin' this', and he fuckin' grabs my shoulder to stop me leaving. I give him one, but then he did it again, and I just- I was pissed, sis, and he grabbed me from behind, and I-" 

"You punched him," you said dryly. "Makes sense." 

Daryl shot you a look, a moment of pure sibling understanding. Coming up swinging when startled? That was a Dixon trait right there. "Yeah. Knocked him flat on his ass, but he wouldn't fuckin' stay down. Tossed the explosives, then I's winning, then the fuckin' truck blew up. Put an end to that." 

"Jesus," you muttered. You leaned your face into your hands and sighed. "Well, clearly, you need to apologize to Rick when they get back. Everything go ok in the other outposts? Or has the whole thing gone to shit?" 

"Jesus took fuckin' prisoners. We found a goddamn baby, and fuckin'- fuckin' Morales, sis. Had to kill him. Eric died." Daryl delivered it all harshly, staring at nothing. "Found a fuckin'- never mind. Ain't important. Sis." 

You swallowed back tears for Aaron, for Morales- what the hell? How the hell? You had so many questions- and lifted an eyebrow at him in question. "Yeah?" 

"We take one of them garbage trucks. Weigh the pedal down, driver bails, ram a hole in the building that way. Same plan, different execution. Ain't got the Kingdom no more. Ain't got the numbers. We gotta find another way. Gotta win." 

"Oh, holy shit," you muttered, pushing to your feet to pace like he was. "Darrie. No." 

"Why?" he demanded. "Why not?" 

"Well, because that's risky as hell for one. For two, because Rick and Shane are working on getting more forces. For three, because there's a goddamn plan, and who knows what happens if you fuck with it now?" You ticked points off on your fingers, mind spinning with things that could go wrong with this hairbrained idea. 

And, reluctantly, with what could go right. He had a point- walkers flooding in was a major problem. They'd have to retreat, hit the upper levels, and that trapped them even more effectively. Plus, it was great for psychological warfare, as well. You remembered how the Alexandrians had reacted to the walkers in town, being trapped in their homes and separated from each other. 

It could work. 

And it could go horribly, horribly wrong. 

"No. Just- Darrie, just wait for Rick and Shane to get back," you finished, stepping over to him and grabbing his hand again. "The plan? It's solid. We'll win." 

He didn't say anything, but you saw it in his face, even as he pulled you into a hug. He was going anyway, damn it. 

You sighed. "Fine. I can't stop you," you told his shoulder. "But I will tell you to be careful. Don't be a dumbass. Get yourself hurt and I'll be fucking pissed." 

He snorted. "What else is new? Wish you'd help." 

"I- I want to, if only to keep an eye on you," you admitted as you pulled away. "But I can't." 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "I'll be back. It's worth it." 

"I'm gonna go paint some more. Say goodbye if you decide to leave." You kissed his cheek and scooped up your bag again, slipping out the door as you wondered when the hell you Dixons had gotten quite this hard headed. 

Twenty minutes and a quick visit- in which you tried yet again to convince him not to go- from your brother later, and he and Tara drove a garbage truck out the gate. You shrugged at the bewildered look from the man on duty and tossed your hands up in despair. 

"'No one leaves. We'll be back'," you mocked Rick under your breath, turning back to your painting. "Sure. Like it ever works like that. No one can stick to a plan around here. Gotta go wandering off on their own like complete idiots, and-" 

"Hey. Aunt Ace." 

You lowered the paint and turned to Carl slowly, narrowing your eyes at the bag on his shoulder. 

You held your breath as you eased your bedroom door open enough to squeeze through. Darrie didn't twitch in his bed, arm flung over his eyes and one foot dangling over the side, and you let out the breath slowly. 

Good. One step down. 

You slipped down the hall soundlessly, avoiding the boards that creaked with the ease of practice, and paused in the bathroom doorway to look in the living room. TV light illuminated Will, passed the fuck out in his chair with his pants unzipped and a half-full beer in his hand. 

You could tell he was passed out and not just asleep by the way he was slumped, and the lack of snoring. Plus, the drugs on the coffee table made it far more likely. 

Perfect. Everything had lined up right, you thought, feeling the smile growing as you tip toed back to your room. You held your breath again as you pulled the door to, thanked all the higher powers you could name when it didn't creak, and grabbed your shoes in one hand and a small bag in the other. You hopped up onto your bed and reached for the screen in your window, and- 

Darrie coughed, deliberate and fake as hell. 

Lip between your teeth, you turned to his bed to find him propped on one elbow and staring at you in the streetlamp light. You smiled and gestured vaguely with your shoes. 

"Hey, Darrie. Um. Mark's waiting, and- please don't say anything," you whispered urgently. "I'm just- it's- well-" 

You were trying to come up with something better than "Mark and his buddies are going to climb the water tower over on Tenth and get drunk and maybe skinny dip if they can get inside, and he asked me to go and I really want to because maybe if I do I'll finally get some friends", but you had nothing and you knew it. Daryl stared for a heartbeat longer, then lay down and tossed his arm back over his eyes. 

You grinned. "Thanks, Darrie. Love you. I'll be back before morning." 

Daryl waved one hand in absent acknowledgement, still silent, and you ducked through the screen and onto the fire escape still smiling.


	52. Lie #52: "Ok. Ok. That Was Fun." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> references to past child abuse

You turned to walk backward, scanning the road and the trees for threats. Finding nothing- it'd been unusually calm and walker-free, not that you weren't grateful, but you were hella tense- you eyed Carl again. 

He was so damn grown these days. You tried not to think about him, kneeling in front of Negan with that bat in the air, ready to come down on him. If you hadn't jumped in front of it, or Maggie and Ezekiel hadn't gotten there when they did… 

You couldn't bear to think about what would have happened. 

But it didn't, you reminded yourself. "So, kid." 

He glanced at you, composed curiosity in his face. "Yeah?" 

"What gives?" 

"What?" He asked blankly, clearly confused. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at him and gestured with your drawn gun. "What- we're kinda in the middle of a war, if you haven't noticed. And you're wandering around here feeding the homeless and rescuing the stranger. Not that it isn't, on balance, the right thing to do, but- what gives?" 

He sighed as he looked away. "It's simple, Aunt Ace. Hope isn't enough." 

You waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. "Ok. And that means… what exactly?" you asked as two of you weaved your way through the abandoned cars at the gas station. You'd automatically dropped your voice to a whisper, because abandoned cars usually meant abandoned people, and you'd had enough impromptu parking lot near death experiences to know to be on high alert until the area was clear. 

Not that this kid had ever learned that lesson, you thought with mild disgust as he followed a direct path toward somewhere, not looking around and certainly not trying to clear anything. He'd obviously learned nothing since wrestling a decaying corpse for knives and other sharp pointy things on the highway outside Atlanta. 

You couldn't help but smile a little at that memory, and the way he face had lit up when you'd handed it to him and told him to take it to Shane. He was a good kid, Carl. And growing up to be a good- if cryptic and a little reckless- man. 

"Just like your father," you hissed at him when he crouched beside two empty cans. "Think that hat is going to save you from a walker or something? Look around, kid." 

"He's not here, but he ate. So he's probably close by," Carl answered, ignoring you. "Let's head out that way. Check the trees. Just a little." 

You sighed, but he was going whether you agreed or not, so you followed along with him. A few minutes of silence in, he glanced at you and then away. You lifted an eyebrow in question. "Yes?" 

"Dad said he hoped the guy made it. I told him that wasn't enough. We can't just- just hope for the best. We have to help people. Even if it seems stupid. Glenn helped my dad, all the way back in Atlanta. Hershel helped all of us. Aaron did. Deanna did. Jesus did. We wouldn't have made it without them. All of them. So we have to help, too," he said slowly. "I think- sometimes, we forget that, with all the bad things we've seen. We forget that we've seen good, too. We can't do that. We can't forget the good." 

His face was intense as he scanned the trees, and you tossed an arm around his shoulders for a minute, fighting back tears. "Yeah," you agreed softly. "Yeah. We can't forget the good." 

The trash bag on the tree made you swallow hard. "Well, shit," you mumbled. "Someone's around." 

Carl shot you a look, but you waved him off. You weren't alone and stupid, and Malcolm was long dead, burned up, and several states away. It didn't matter anymore. 

There were sharpened sticks at the base of the tree, and a walker impaled along them reaching for the bag. As you watched, a man darted out of the trees, knife in hand, and put the walker down. 

"That's him," Carl whispered. He pulled a Ziplock bag from his backpack and took a deep breath. "Don't scare him, ok?" 

"Me?" you asked, almost offended. "I'm a bartender. I can talk to anyone." 

"Shhh," he hissed at you as he tried not to laugh. "Hey." 

The man's head whipped up and the knife rose defensively, but he made no move toward you. You kept your gun pointed at the ground, loose and comfortable with the idea that if he came at you or Carl you'd kill him without hesitation. 

He didn't, but his eyes were wary as he watched Carl, hands up, edge a little closer. 

"It was my dad. They were warning shots, over your head," Carl told him. "I'm Carl. That's Ace." 

The man's wary eyes flicked from Carl to you, and you smiled slightly in acknowledgement. "Siddiq," he said after a pause, voice sounding rusty from disuse.

"Food and water," Carl offered, holding out the bag. 

Siddiq lowered his knife, staring at Carl and at you with a bewildered expression. "Why?" 

"I think- you were talking about something your mom said, about helping people. And my mom told me that you got to do what's right. It's hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not," Carl answered seriously. He tossed the bag in Siddiq's direction, leaving a good space between him and the other man, and Siddiq picked it up. 

The guy was obviously hungry and thirsty and alone, and he fell to his knees and tore the bag open, guzzling water with a shaking hand. You sighed and shoved your gun into the holster at your side, finally giving in to what Carl seemed to have known, somehow, all along. He wasn't a threat. He wasn't a Savior. He was some poor starving asshole, alone and in need of help. 

And you couldn't forget the good in the world, right? 

"Thanks," Siddiq said softly, looking at the ground. 

Carl glanced at you, and you nodded. "Glad I found you," he told Siddiq. 

"You were looking for me?" Siddiq shot to his feet, shoving the bag of food into his pocket with suspicion written all over him. 

Carl nodded. "Yeah, I- I scavenged the sardines and the other stuff. Me and my dad, Ace- we're in a community." 

You saw the look on Siddiq's face and it damn near shattered your heart. You remembered being lost and starving and dying of thirst on the road, and the utter hopelessness before Aaron said something similar to you. And you- you hadn't been alone. You couldn't even imagine what this man was going through right now. 

Carl's voice was soft as he took another step toward Siddiq. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. I need you to answer honestly, ok?" 

Siddiq agreed, and you followed Carl closer to him. 

"How many walkers have you killed? I know it's hard to keep track-" 

"Two hundred and thirty seven," Siddiq answered. 

You blinked. "That's- specific. Really?" 

His eyes shot to you and then he looked at the walker on the spike. "Give or take a couple." 

You shrugged at Carl, who shrugged back. "How many people have you killed?" 

"One." 

From the look on his face alone, you knew it had hurt him, but Carl asked. "Why?" 

Siddiq's jaw tightened as he looked away. "The dead tried to kill him, but… they didn't." 

"You're making walker traps," you said with a nod behind him. He'd passed Rick's questions- like everyone passed Rick's questions- and far better than you or Carl would at this point. He was going back with you, but holy shit was Rick gonna be pissed. "That how you've killed so many?" 

"That's only part of it," he muttered. He looked away, like he was expecting to be mocked or shot at again. "My mom thought that killing them would- would free their souls." 

You stared at the walker slumped behind him as you considered that. Merle's face flashed into your mind again, on the fence and growling, and you shoved it ruthlessly away as your stomach rolled and your eyes filled. 

You didn’t know who had put him down or taken him off the fence, but you were grateful. Even if there was no way in hell Merle Dixon had even had a soul. 

"That's a lovely sentiment," you managed for Siddiq. "Carl." 

"Yeah, I know, we need to get back," he agreed absently, focused on Siddiq's nervous expression. "But doing that, doesn't that just make things harder for you while you're trying to survive?" 

Siddiq looked fucking floored, like he'd never considered that before. "I don't know. But I- you gotta honor your parents, right?" 

You snorted out a half-laughed and waved off his confused look and Carl's pointedly annoyed one. "Ignore me. I did not have a mom who believed in freeing walkers' souls. And if the kid was honoring his dad, we wouldn't be talking right now," you added dryly. 

"I definitely wouldn't bring you back to my community either," he agreed. 

The hope in Siddiq's eyes was damn painful to see. 

Carl led the way and you brought up the rear, but it wasn't like any of you were far from the other. You listened in as they spoke some, quietly, but for the most part all three of you were silent and listening for walkers. 

You heard them before you saw them, and whistled lightly at Carl. He stopped instantly, almost tripping Siddiq, and the two of you headed off the path in unison. 

It wasn't far until you saw them. Three walkers crouched feasting on a deer, with a fourth stumbling and growling his way to fall on his knees beside the other three. 

"That's a shame," you said with a grimace, looking at the poor deer. "Could have used that." 

"Ok, Daryl," Carl whispered back, amused as hell. 

You shrugged. "He is my brother. Come on, they're busy. We can go around." 

"No," Carl said slowly. "There's only four of them. Ace…" 

You stared at him. He stared at you. Siddiq stared at you both, and you sighed. "We're going to get in so much trouble. Fine." 

Carl grinned at you. "Won't get in trouble if we don't tell anyone. You hang back, ok?" 

"Fuck off, Grimes," you shot back, already digging your knife out. "That's not happening." 

"Fine! Can't say I didn't try," Carl muttered cheerfully. "Ok. For your mom," he added, smiling at Siddiq. 

The man looked confused at the two of you, but he nodded and shifted his grip on his own knife. You rose together, leaned the rifle on a tree with Carl's bag, and slipped closer. Soundless as you were, even over the fallen leaves, the walkers jerked in unison and turned from the deer. 

People smelled better than two-day-old meat, apparently. 

"I've got the two on the left, you boys take the two on the right," you tossed out at them as the walkers separated themselves into pairs. 

Carl's loud sigh showed what he thought of that, but they were close enough to engage now. You darted forward, shoving one off balance before spinning to the other, expecting this to be a quick fight and a quicker finish. 

Funny how it didn't turn out that way. 

Honestly, you weren't sure what exactly happened. The first one was easy. Then, naturally, you turned for the second, saw Carl on the deer carcass grappling with one, Siddiq holding another at arm's bay, and three more- including one with a whole ass branch through his guts- coming out of the trees. 

"Shit," you said mildly, and sprinted for Carl. 

"Just go! You don't have to do this!" Siddiq called. 

You grunted, knife driving up through the base of a dead man's skull, and tossed his body off Carl. "Guns," you half-yelled, grabbing for yours when your knife went with the dead guy. "You good?" 

Carl didn't respond, but a shot went off by your ear and a dead woman in a tattered dress went down. You pushed back the usual mild terror that being shot at that closely often tried to inspire and dropped the third new attendee just in time to watch Siddiq swing the branch bastard into a tree so hard it made his head explode. 

And just like that, it was over. Thank fuck. 

You shoved the gun away with shaking hands, shoved one hand through your hair, and shook your head. "Ok. Ok. That was fun. Hey, next time, let’s just go around them. You good, Carl?" 

Your voice went sharp at the end when you realized he was still laid out over the deer, his gun in hand and a dazed look in his eyes. He nodded slowly, licked his lips, and took your offered hand. 

"Yeah," he whispered as you pulled him to his feet. "Yeah, I'm- I'm good. Are you?" 

"Yeah," you said easily, and promptly turned and puked. Bent half-over, you wiped the back of your hand- the only non-blood-covered one- over your mouth and grimaced. "I'm delightful. Let's go home now and see if your dad wants to yell at us some, ok?" 

Carl smiled sheepishly at you when you straightened up to glare at him. "Yeah, that sounds good." 

You snorted and shoved his shoulder lightly. "Sure it does. Help me get my knife."


	53. Lie #53: "He'd Forgotten, For A Moment, That Ace Wasn't In Love With Him These Days" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

"'Go back to Jadis and her garbage people'," Shane muttered. "'It'll be fine.' What the hell, man?" 

Dimly, through the gloom punctuated by sunlight streaming in from bullet holes, Shane heard Rick's sigh. "I knew this kind of thing was a possibility. So did you." 

"This kind of thing? I'm in a goddamn shipping container. In my underwear, man. My underwear!"

"What do you want me to do about? I am too," Rick snapped back, and Shane caught the fraying patience in his tone. 

Thing was, he didn't care. Jadis had reacted to Rick's lovely speech about switching sides or assured destruction with about as much excitement as Shane had been expecting. She'd smiled enigmatically and ordered the two of them stripped and tossed into side-by-side shipping containers, newly qualified for live cargo storage with bullet-hole air holes. 

Shane was sweating like a motherfucker, worried about the others, and getting more and more concerned that Ace would roll up here herself if he didn't get home soon. He was over this whole mess and wanted to make sure Rick fucking Grimes knew it. 

He gestured with his bound hands, despite knowing Rick couldn't see him. Hell, he couldn't see himself, really. "I don't know. Some fucking magic, man. We're gonna have people come lookin' for us soon." 

"I know," Rick snapped. Seemed his patience had finally given out, and for some petty reason that made Shane smile. "Want to do less complaining and more coming up with a plan, 22?" 

Shane snorted. "I'd love to, Grimes, but we're stuck in goddamn shipping containers. In our underwear!" 

He figured that thump was Rick slamming his head into the wall. 

He heard the footsteps and climbed to his feet, not wanting to be in any more vulnerable a position than he had to be when they opened the door. Honestly, Shane had no damn idea what to expect. There was no plan, no script for this one; he and Rick were flying by the seat of their pants. 

Literally, he thought as the lock lifted and the door creaked open. White, blinding light streamed in and turned the gloom he'd become adjusted to into a spotlight, washing out everything as he squinted and felt the tears spring to his eyes as they tried to protect themselves. He blinked rapidly, hoping that would help him adjust, cause the last thing he needed was to be mostly naked and blind and in Jadis' hands. 

When the white wall of sun resolved itself into normal daylight, he found himself facing Jadis, one of her croonies sitting in a chair with a sketchbook, and a couple others with guns, just for kicks. What the hell did they think Shane and Rick were gonna do, honestly? 

Actually, with Rick Grimes there was no telling, Shane thought as he glanced over at his partner. Rick stood much the same as Shane, but seemed far more composed and unbothered by the whole situation than he was feeling. 

"It's not too late for you," Rick started when Jadis stared at him wordlessly. 

Man on the chair sketched away, and Shane shifted and wondered why it bothered him. He'd been drawn by Ace a thousand times, and he'd never batted an eye or felt uncomfortable. But this guy- 

Shane didn't like it. 

"My offer still stands. You can join us, or you can die." 

Shane had to admire Rick. The man had guts, even standing there in his drawers and with his hands tied, while some bitch looked at him like he was a particularly delicious snack. And Rick was making threats. 

Jadis calmly lifted a camera and started taking pictures. She tossed the spent flash bulb, loaded a new one, and looked at Rick. "Turn." 

Rick did. Jadis took two more pictures of Rick, then nodded to her people as she eyed Shane. They started to close Rick's doors, but the sketch artist held up a hand and they stopped. She studied Shane critically, her eyes lingering, and lifted her camera to take a shot of him as well. 

Shane stared at her and tried to project the image of him flipping her off into her mind. 

The artist flipped his sketchbook closed and nodded. Shane backed up as the doors started to close again, because it was back up or get hit, and he had enough problems, thanks. 

"Why? Why the pictures?" Rick asked. 

"Sculpt you. After." Jadis nodded Shane's way. "Maybe paint him."

Well, that didn't sound good, Shane thought dryly. "After what?"

"After," she repeated. 

The doors closed slowly and locked again, and Shane sighed. "I'm gonna kick your ass when we get out of this." 

"Yeah, yeah," Rick muttered. 

Shane eased back to the floor and started laughing. At Rick's disgruntled 'what's so funny?', he laughed harder. "Aw, brother. I just- Ace is gonna have her guts for a necklace if she tries to paint me." 

He'd forgotten, for a moment, that Ace wasn't in love with him these days, and when that fact crashed back into his mind, it stopped the laughter in its tracks. Rick chuckled though, and Shane sighed and tipped his head back against the storage container. 

He missed his girl.

He was on his way to blitzed and wondering why the hell he'd come home and not gone out somewhere tonight. He felt goddamn good, all the bullshit from today floating somewhere comfortably over his left shoulder and not weighing heavily on his mind. 

Something with guns and drama and a woman crying prettily was on the tv but Shane wasn't paying attention to that, since he'd forgotten what the hell he put on about five drinks ago. He'd damn near emptied the bottle of Kentucky Gentleman- he'd been going for drunk, so cheap was the primary factor there- and couldn't for the life of him remember what he'd been so damn sad about. 

On the screen, the shooting had stopped and the woman's crying had too, and now they were in a bar and dressed up, and the guy leaned on the bar and ordered for them both while the formerly-crying woman made heart eyes at him. 

"Slugger'd hate you," Shane informed the screen, waving his glass at the guy. "Shoulda gone to Atlanta tonight." 

He took a drink and fumbled his phone from his pocket, pulling up her contact clumsily. He couldn't help but smile at the picture- he'd taken it on her couch a couple months ago, her on her toes in splattered leggings and that shirt she'd stolen from him, ballerina-graceful as she painted. 

His initials were smeared in bright blue just below her ass, because she'd been distracted and Shane was, he admitted, sometimes an asshole. 

He shot off a message to her, just asking if she was up. It was late, and he couldn't remember what day it was. She might have been working. 

They hadn't talked in awhile, and he missed her. 

\-- Hey Dickhead. How drunk are you? Say 'inebriated'.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. He wasn't that drunk. That text had been perfectly clear, damn it. 

\-- Can't say anything over texts. Pretty drunk though lol.

He admitted that last with a laugh when he almost dropped his phone into his drink. Shit, he should have gone to Atlanta tonight. He missed her. 

\-- If this is a booty call, you've got the wrong number, Walsh. Try 'B' in your phone, for 'Bimbo'. I'm sure you've got at least one saved in there still. 

He cracked up at that, and watched the formerly crying woman fall into the arms- and the bed- of the man. He sure did have a few numbers he could call if that was what he was after, he thought idly as clothing began to leave the people on screen. And he wasn’t totally opposed. But that wasn't really what he wanted tonight, either. 

\-- I miss you, Ace.

How long had it been since he'd seen her? He couldn't remember, and suddenly the urge to up and drive his ass to Atlanta came on strong. They'd laugh, and drink, and he'd tell her all about the shit, shit day he'd had and what the department shrink had said, and she'd tell him about that bastard Hall's latest whatever, and then he'd fall asleep listening to her sappy shit on the radio or maybe with his arm tossed around her in her bed. 

Shit, it sounded good. He started to get up, didn't make it, and closed his eyes as he started laughing again. 

Yeah, he was too damn drunk to go to Atlanta. 

Then his phone rang, and he grinned. That would do. Talking to her would be the next best thing. 

"Hey, Slugger!" 

She sounded partly amused and partly concerned. "Jesus, Dickhead. Put down the booze and drink some water."

This time when the doors creaked open, they didn't give him time to adjust. Hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him out, then forced him down to his knees as he blinked against the white light. 

He heard a familiar annoyed grunt and Rick appeared beside him. Hands held them both in place, and Shane shot his best friend a look that he hoped said clearly 'this bullshit is all your fault and you better have a plan to save your scrawny ass and mine, brother'. 

If Rick's eye roll was any indication, message received. 

They were facing another container embedded in the junk, and Shane had a feeling he wouldn't like what came out of it. He was correct. Jadis and a friend opened the door, with a walker on a lead pole in front of them. 

It was a new-and-improved version of Winslow, and this time it seemed Jadis wasn't taking any chances that Rick would beat it. Shane struggled for a minute against the hands forcing him down, but bound and on his knees, there wasn't a whole lot he could do. 

"Time for after," Jadis declared, voice empty. 

The asshole with the walker started forward, heading straight for Rick. Shane tensed and got ready, because there was no fucking way his brother was taking this without a fight, and if he was going to die here in this goddamn garbage dump, it would not be getting eaten by a fucking spike-headed dead bastard on a stick. 

Rick exploded into action when the walker's snapping jaws were way too damn close for Shane's comfort, and he took his brother's cue and did the same. Where Rick slammed his head back into the person holding him down, Shane took a bit of the opposite approach and launched himself forward, into the walker. 

Shane's handler had not been expecting that- honestly, Shane hadn't either, he wasn't exactly planning this shit- and gave a surprised yelp. Shane bowled the walker to the ground, dragging its handler off balance, and grabbed for the pole that controlled it. 

Jadis was yelling, but Shane didn't pay any attention. Instead, he jerked the pole forward and slammed it back, because the handler was a stubborn bastard and was still hanging on. The pole took him in the gut and the handler doubled over, and suddenly Shane had himself a walker on a stick. 

That was, however, only so useful to him, and he tried to yank the stick free. Instead, he got a whole ass walker head on a pike, and that was a much better weapon, in his opinion. 

He didn't really know what Rick was doing until the gunshots went off, because Shane was trying to deal with two handlers and a walker head and staying alive. When someone started shooting, everything stopped as they all ducked and looked around wildly. 

Rick and Jadis were grappling with Jadis' gun, but Shane knew in a glance that Rick had the upper hand. Two seconds later he was proven correct when Rick wrestled her to the ground and got a knee on her chest, forcing her head to one side. 

Shane could be as dramatic an asshole as his best friend sometimes, so he lowered the snapping jaws of the walker-on-a-stick down near her face and let her stare into certain doom. 

Drama was about the best plan either of them had, since the fight and the gunshots had drawn more of Jadis' people in, this time armed with guns and looking pissed. 

"We're walking out now, and us walking out means all of you die," Rick declared. "My people- there's a lot of them- won't attack today, but we will attack." 

Shane stayed silent and did his best to look menacing and unbothered. 

"You can play your games, you can draw your pictures, sculpt whatever shit you want, but we? We are leaving!" Rick yelled. "After that, maybe you should just run." 

Shane almost smiled, because that voice- that was Rick when he was about to rip someone's throat out or stab them to death in a church. It was Rick at his pissed off, brutal bastard best, and Shane knew without a doubt that they were, in fact, leaving. 

Jadis knew it too. She signaled to her people, her eyes huge and frightened as she stared at the walker's still-snapping jaws. The guns pointed their way lowered, and Jadis croaked out a 'yes' in response to Rick's 'we done?' 

Shane tossed aside his walker head as Rick helped her to her feet, scanning the gathered crowd for the first time. Shit, there were a lot of these assholes. 

"Join you," Jadis declared breathlessly. "What then?" 

"The Sanctuary is surrounded. Walkers. Twenty deep around the compound. You'll come with us there. We'll wait for the others to meet us, and when they do, we'll ask the lieutenants to surrender. All of us, together. Then I kill Negan, me alone." 

Shane snorted, because that shit wasn't true and they both knew it, but he didn't interrupt. This was what they'd come for, after all. Even if he trusted Jadis only about as far as Rick could throw her. 

"We have a deal?" Rick asked intently, ignoring Shane. 

"After, Saviors' things our things. Yes and yes," Jadis said firmly. 

Shane couldn't believe she was trying to negotiate, but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Rick dismissed all of her demands, including the one that he pose nude for her to sculpt, and got her to agree to a fourth share of the Saviors' things. 

Shane shook his head at Rick as he shoved his hands through his t shirt sleeves. "How the fuck did you pull that one off?" 

Rick shot him a glance and rose, checking his gun before shoving it back into his holster. "Honestly? I have no idea. Come on, 22. Almost over." 

"Almost over," Shane agreed. He wasn't so sure, though.


	54. Lie #54: "Oh God. My Least Favorite Words." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> vomiting  
> bullying

You eyed Carl closely on the walk back, but the kid seemed fine. Grimy, but fine. He and Siddiq got deep into a discussion that seemed to center entirely around theology and mothers, and your heart hurt for how much Carl clearly missed Lori. 

You didn't entirely understand it, since she'd been a class A bitch there at the end, but she was his mom. You knew how it felt to miss your mom. 

Not that you missed her much anymore, you mused. At least not until recently. You hadn't thought about her in years, but now she kept coming up. 

So far the trip back was utterly uneventful, and you'd loudly informed both of your charges- Carl was a kid but holy shit Siddiq was young too, and when had you become den mother?- that there would be no more soul-freeing on this trip. You'd all done your good deed for the day, and you were done. 

You just wanted to get back and see if Dickhead and Rick had done ok with Jadis or if your idiot brother had finished being an idiot and returned as well. 

Yeah, Rick was a dumbass for leaving all of you unsupervised. Including his own kid, you thought, eying him up ahead of you. That boy was almost as much trouble as you and your brothers had been at that age. 

That was a terrifying thought. 

You rubbed a hand absently over your stomach as it churned, wondering how much of a nightmare the demonspawn was going to be. Honestly, given the Dixon blood alone, you'd have been worried. Add in- 

You shied away from that thought firmly. You'd been thinking about your mother more in the past few chaotic weeks than you had in years before that. You tried to really examine the hazy memories and come up with something solid of her, something real, but she was a blur wrapped in what was undoubtedly the rose-colored glasses of childhood. 

You wished you could ask Merle about her. Hell, you wished you could ask Merle about anything. 

As that was entirely too painful a thought for you to deal with right then, you stepped a little closer to the boys to see what they were talking about and maybe get out of your own head for a minute. 

"So, I just- How did you do it? How did you stay alive, on your own?"

"Carl," you warned, knowing that was a painful topic for any survivor these days. 

Siddiq glanced your way and smiled. "It is alright. I had faith." 

You half-laughed. "My brother would say 'faith ain't done shit for us'." 

"I can respect that point of view, but I disagree. You are good people," Siddiq said solemnly. 

"Being a good person isn't about faith," you countered. You'd had plenty of barstool psychology talks about the subject, with your coworkers and with others, and you could feel yourself leaning into this one like you were debating at the bar. You didn't care. "My brothers and I were raised by a man who claimed to be Christian. He beat the shit out of us on a near-daily basis." 

Carl's face contorted in anger as you shrugged.

"I don't hold the faith responsible. I hold the man. I've known good people of faith- many faiths; one of my closest friends was Buddhist- and I've known good people who didn't claim any faith or path. Maybe Darrie thinks faith hasn't done shit for us, but that's not true," you mused, thinking about Hershel taking in a rag-tag group of survivors and praying over his meal. You shrugged at Carl and Siddiq. "But it hasn't done any miracles, either. People have."

Siddiq seemed thoughtful, but Carl flashed you a shit-eating grin. "Wow, Aunt Ace. That was profound. Been spending a lot of time with Jesus lately?" 

The laugh shot out uncontrollably and you slapped a hand over your mouth to smother the sound. 

It didn't take long for you to be close to home, and you grabbed Carl's sleeve and jerked your head a little to the side. Siddiq didn't notice the two of you, or at least pretended he didn't know you were whispering about him, and that was good enough for you. 

"So, we just bringing him in through the front gate or what? You'll get away with it because you're you, but only until your dad is home. Rick's going to have a cow," you informed him bluntly. "He'll come around, but it's going to be fireworks until then." 

"I know," Carl agreed. "I can't leave him alone out here, though. You know that." 

"Yeah." You hesitated, but what the hell. It'd been built for a reason. "There's always the cell. Just until Rick can determine he's not a spy or a serial killer." 

Carl looked thoughtful, staring at one of the crumbling houses nearby. "I have an idea," he said slowly. 

"Oh god. My least favorite words." 

Carl wanted you and Siddiq to wait outside the walls, and you eyed him suspiciously but did. It was better, at least slightly, than strolling up and finding an angry Rick Grimes there wondering what the hell you two thought you were doing. 

Or Shane, ready to fuss some more.

You missed him so much it hurt. Someday, you thought dully. Someday, you might be friends again. Someday, all the things Negan had broken might not feel so goddamn big, and you could think about Shane without it feeling like- 

Ugh, like you were going to puke. Damn it, child, you thought viciously. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to get it under control because you really, really didn't want to puke again, but about two seconds later it was no use. 

There was hardly anything in you to come out, so it didn't take long, at least. That was the only good thing you could think of as you swished water around your mouth and spat it with a grimace. This was miserable. Damn. 

"Miss Ace? Are you alright?" 

You smiled weakly at Siddiq and nodded. "Yeah, just nausea. It's all good now." 

"I-" he hesitated, then shook his head as if to clear it and continued. "I was in med school. Can I take a look? See what might be wrong?" 

"You're a doctor?" you asked, surprised. "Holy shit." 

"Not a doctor yet. Still studying to be one." 

"That's better than what we've got right now. Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I already know what's wrong with me, and it's not going away any time soon." You pushed aside the guilt, because making it go away might make life a little better for you. That thought only served to make you hate yourself, though, so you'd take a little guilt. 

"I… do not understand." 

You gestured vaguely with your water bottle. "Don't worry about it. So, what were you going to specialize in?" 

"I-" 

He cut off at the soft sound, and you set down the water and swung the rifle at the ready just as Carl slid around the corner. He had a bag tossed over his shoulder and he flashed you a smile. 

"All set. Let's go." 

You honestly had no idea what that meant or where you were going, but you seemed to just be along for the ride on this adventure anyway, so what the hell. You traded rifle for water again and shrugged. "Alright then. Let's go." 

Mark's buddy Jake laughed cruelly when you walked by. 

You hitched your backpack up on your shoulder and ignored them, but Darrie wasn't so chill about it. "Don't," you hissed when he half-turned to glare. "You'll make it worse." 

"I'll make his fuckin' face worse," he muttered. "Asshole." 

You couldn't help but laugh, and you figured that was the mistake. Jake heard it, saw Daryl looking at him, and assumed- correctly- that the two of your were making fun of him. He puffed his chest out and glared, and you immediately grabbed at your twin's arm to try to keep him from doing more damage. 

"Awww, look at them, holding hands," Jake called. "We sure he's not the father?" 

"Fuck," you breathed. "Daryl, don't- damn it, Darrie!" 

Your attempts to hold your brother in place were instantly futile, and he was up in Jake's face before you could think. You chased him over and tried to get between them, but they'd gone nose to nose in that goddamn macho teenage male way that always made you want to roll your eyes and mumble 'now kiss', because you were as much of an asshole as your brothers were sometimes. Now, however, all you really wanted was to get off the school property without incident, but your twin was absolutely not going to cooperate. 

"Yeah, Darrie," Jake mocked. "Don't. Listen to your little lady." 

"Oh, fuck off, Jake. Oh wait, you can't. No one will sleep with you," you snapped, shooting him a glare. "Back off. Both of you. Jake can't help that he's a douchebag." 

Daryl didn't move. "He needs to stop fuckin' runnin' his mouth about my sister. Ya buddy there's the one done skipped out on her when she needs him." 

"There's no way to know Mark's the father," Jake countered, a smirk on his lips like he was getting what he wanted. "She could have fucked anyone." 

"Well, while I appreciate the compliment, I didn't," you put in dryly. "Dar, it's not worth it. Mr. Galloway is watching. You get detention one more time and they'll get Will involved." 

Daryl shrugged. "Don't give a shit. He needs to apologize." 

"Like that's going to happen," Jake said with a sneer. "I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." 

"I'm sure you are," you muttered. "Daryl-" 

"Jake!" 

You looked up in surprise at Mark's sharp yell, as did Jake. He looked confused, and you followed his eyes to see Mark standing by his car, glaring across the parking lot at Jake. Mark jerked his head impatiently and yelled 'come on!' before unlocking the car and tossing his bag into the backseat. 

Jake scoffed. "Guess it's your lucky day, Dixon. I'm late." 

"Yeah, go when your boyfriend calls," Daryl snarled as Jake shoved passed him. 

Jake spun around, eyes narrowed, but Mark called his name again. Your eyes lingered on Mark in the distance, and you thought maybe he looked a little ashamed. 

You turned away deliberately and started for the gate. "Come on, Darrie. Let's get out of here." 

"He needs to stop runnin' his damn mouth," Daryl grumbled. "Fuckin' Mark does too. Assholes, both of 'em." 

"Mark just saved you from two beatings and detention," you informed your twin. "Maybe cut him some fucking slack. He's seventeen." 

"So are you. So'm I. Don't see either of us bein' shitheads about shit." 

You sighed. "I dunno. You just about were." 

"Shut the fuck up, sis." 

You heard the laugh in his voice and grinned at the ground, but then he went and ruined it. 

"I got an idea," he said slowly. "An' it's a damn good one." 

You groaned. "Fucking hell, Dar. Whatever it is, the answer's no." 

You shook your head as you helped the kid drag the sewer grate back closed. "Dude, what the hell. How is that better than the cell?" 

"Honestly? I don't know that it is," Carl admitted. "But I couldn't bring myself to lock him up, you know? It didn't seem right." 

"Sure," you agreed flippantly, shooting him a look. "At least the candles make it pretty, right?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you you're a smartass, Aunt Ace?" 

"All the time," you agreed around a yawn. Darkness had fallen while you'd helped Carl get Siddiq settled. The med student had been very understanding about the whole thing, thanking you both for every tiny gesture even as you and Carl apologized for leaving him down there. You had a feeling he was too happy to be somewhere safe and secure and with food to care that he was alone and in a sewer. 

Carl snorted out a laugh and pointed you toward home. "Go lay down before Daryl sees you looking tired and yells at us both." 

"Darrie can kiss my ass," you declared cheerfully. You were, however, glad he was back. There'd been an incident, according to Carl, but they'd broken the wall. Walkers had flooded the Sanctuary. 

You tried not to worry about the people who lived there, but some of the worker's faces flashed into your mind anyway. Like Alice, who'd done her best for Merle. 

You pushed that thought away as you studied Carl. "This is the right choice." 

He smiled slightly and shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know about right, but it's the only one I could make." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "That's how I know it's the right one. I think you're the best of us all, kid. Get some rest yourself." 

"I will. I just want to bring a few more things down for Siddiq first," he said with a jerk of his chin toward the pantry. "Go home. Make Daryl talk to you. He's really angry about something." 

You sighed and nodded, waving as you started for home. Carl was right; Darrie was angry. He was angry about all the same things you were- about Negan, about Glenn and Abraham, about Merle. About the cell, and the baby, and maybe angry all the way back to your childhood and Will and your mom. You didn't know, but you were worried about him. 

You strolled, trying not to worry about Rick and Shane. They weren't back from that backstabbing bitch Jadis yet, and you had all kinds of bad ideas about what that might mean. You'd give them until morning, then you were going to check up on them. Darrie could come too, if he wanted, but you were- 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

You whirled, eyes wide, as the echoing sound reverberated through Alexandria.


	55. Lie #55: "Everything Was Over Now" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> panic attacks

"I bet you're wondering why your lookouts didn't sound the alarm." 

His voice was amplified throughout the town, and you fought viciously against the wave of pure, utter panic. As your breath left you and your feet turned to lead-filled roots, you knew this was it. It was over. Everything was over now; everything you'd been fighting for. 

Negan had gotten out, and he was here. 

"See, we are polite. I mean, I don't know when they're gonna wake up from that kinda shot, but they should wake up!" 

He'd killed them all. All the lookouts, all the walkers, your brother- no, he'd killed Merle awhile ago, hadn't he? Your body shook as you tried, tried, tried to make your mind work and your feet too, but all you could hear above the rush of blood in your ears was Negan. 

"So let's just cut through the cow shit. You lose. It's over!" 

You did lose. It was over. Everything was over. He'd come in, he'd take everyone this time. Rick and Shane were as good as dead if they weren't already, and he'd shove you into some closet-sized cell until the baby was born and then you'd be dead too. Carl, Darrie, everyone; he'd kill them all. He'd take Judith and he'd take your baby, and- 

"Sis. Hey, sis- fuckin' hell," Darrie snarled. He grabbed your face in his hands and stared into your eyes. "Breathe. Hey! Breathe, Ace!"

You couldn't, and you were starting to get lightheaded. 

"You're gonna line up in front of your little houses, and you're gonna work up some apologies, and the person with the lamest one? Is gonna get killed." 

Your eyes strayed to the wall, and Daryl shifted to stay in your field of view. "Naw. Stop that. Look at me. Damn it, sis, we ain't got time for this- I'm sorry, aight? Tell your cop he can punch me over it later." 

You weren't really following him, or much of anything, except the voice in your head screaming that everyone you loved was about to die and you'd be left alone with goddamn Negan until he killed you too, and- 

The sting of the slap sent you reeling backward, clutching your cheek. "Fuck, Daryl!" 

"Shit. I'm sorry. C'mere." He snatched you into a hug immediately and you leaned into it, but Negan was still talking. 

"Then I kill Rick in front of everyone, and we move on." 

"We ain't got time, sis, but ya can be pissed at me later, aight? Ya good?" Daryl asked it urgently, staring into your eyes again. 

You swallowed hard but nodded. You were good. You'd snapped back out of it, and he was right, you thought as you shoved a shaking hand through your hair and took off running with him. But holy shit he was going to pay for it later. 

"You have three- count 'em, three!- minutes to open this gate, or we start bombing the shit out of you!" 

Negan's goddamn whistle followed you up the street, and you and Daryl skidded to a stop beside the truck they'd spent most of the day loading for meeting the others in the morning for phase 3. Carl pulled smoke grenades from a box, loading them rapidly into a bag he had tossed over his shoulder, and he glanced up when you and Daryl arrived. 

"Good, you're here. Here's the plan. We have to make it look like we're escaping out the back. Lead them into the woods, halfway to the quarry, kill the lights." He glanced from Daryl to Rosita, who paced beside the truck. 

You smiled. "Set a trap." 

"Yeah," he agreed. "Get a good lead on them, hit them, and get away on foot. You know where we'll be. We just have to get the guns, get everyone else here, and we'll meet you there."

You did know where they'd be, but Carl clearly wasn't going to be following the 'get everyone in the sewer' or the 'it's a trap' plan, and you were wondering just what he thought he was going to be doing.

Negan interrupted his whistling to yell about two minutes, and your hand clenched into a fist as you tried to ignore him. "Dig deep! I want these apologies to be memorable! Bonus points for creativity. Work up a poem, sing a song- I love that shit!" 

"Asshole," you muttered. "Carl-" 

"Get going," he told Tobin and some of the others who had gathered. "There's going to be people in the infirmary; they're going to need your help." 

"We have guns. We can fight them," Tara said, tone fierce. 

Rosita shook her head. "We will, but not now. Carl's right."

"Carl, we can't just let them have this place." Michonne sounded devastated, and for some reason, it both pissed you off and amused the hell out of you. 

You started laughing, semi-hysterical over the sound of Negan whistling. "Michonne, come on. It's a place. Four walls and a roof. He can have it if he wants it that fucking badly. We have people here, and that's what fucking matters. Goddamn. I know we all like having a place to come back to regularly, but for shit's sake. Breathing's more important than a sofa or a bathroom or a kitchen." 

Carl nodded. "All you need to do is survive tonight. This is my show. You said it. This is my plan, and you're gonna do it. You're all gonna do it. Ace, help get everyone gathered up. You know where we're going. Let's go!" 

Daryl squeezed your hand on the way by as he ran for the trucks, and you were torn. You should have gone with him; made sure he stayed safe.

Made sure Negan didn't kill him like he'd killed Merle, the treacherous voice in your mind whispered. 

You shoved that thought brutally aside and waited until everyone else was busy, and you followed Carl. The kid was up to something, and you weren't about to let him do it- whatever it was- alone. 

"One minute! One minute."

Carl went to the gate, which you'd kind of expected. You really wished the kid had taken the time to outline his part of the plan a little better, but he'd been in a hurry and managing several personalities all used to being at least partly in charge. 

And he'd done it with the same stubborn bastard expression and magic his dad used. Shane was going to be either proud or horrified when you told him later, you thought with a grin. 

"Okeydokey," Negan called through whatever speaker he'd managed to scrounge up. Even if somehow everyone got through this without firing a goddamn shot- unlikely, considering Carl was scrambling up the ladder to the lookout perch and you were now wondering if you could get somewhere close enough to land you a shot at Negan through the gate, or maybe over the wall from further down- that loud speaker alone was going to bring on a fuck ton of walker trouble for you all. 

You were less than excited about that. 

"Brought this on yourself, Rick. See, I was willing to work with you. I gave you chance after chance! Hell, I should have killed you right away. I was going to. But then my princess- I know you're in there, darlin'- well, see kept you safe that day, and I thought, hell. You're important to her. I'll try to keep you among the breathing. All you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. Now- well, now I see that you got to go. Scorched earth, you dick!" 

"He's not home." 

You jumped when Carl spoke, so caught up in the web of Negan making a fucking speech that you didn't realize the kid was all the way up the ladder and on the perch. You muttered to yourself and darted from where you'd been waiting to under the lookout perch to back him up, creeping through the supports to the edge of the gate and looking through a gap. 

Saviors all had their guns trained on Carl, and Negan held a microphone, bat tucked under his arm. Moonlight glinted off the details on his fucking leather jacket, and you shook your head to clear it of the sudden desire for paint and time. 

"Oh-ho-holy shit! Everybody hold your fire; it's Carl. Look at you," Negan practically purred it, staring up at the kid with a smile. "Answering the door like a big boy. I am so proud." 

You thought about the look on his face, raising fucking Lucille to kill Carl. You'd thrown yourself between them, because there was no way in hell you were letting that kid die. Not right there, in front of Rick and Shane, not when you could stop it. Negan had frozen mid-swing, and you could have sworn, in that moment, you'd seen something like gratitude flash through his eyes. 

Then the shooting had started, and you'd wondered if you'd dreamed it. 

But you knew now. It was in his shoulders, in his smile. He liked Carl; liked him a lot. He didn't want to hurt the kid- or, from what you thought you understood, any kid. But Carl was special. 

You all thought so. 

"Daddy's not home, huh?" Negan continued as Carl watched him in quiet silence. "I guess he's gonna get back to a big old smoky surprise." 

"There's families in here," Carl interrupted him softly. "Kids. My little sister." 

Judy, you thought, swallowing hard. You should have made sure Judy was safe, but to be honest, you didn't even know who was watching her today. 

"Well that shit just breaks my heart. There's kids at the Sanctuary. You must have seen 'em. Even had a little baby at one of the outposts. I wonder what happened to her," Negan snarled. 

You sighted along the rifle, forcing thoughts of Judy out of your mind. You almost had a clean shot. If he moved just a little- 

He moved, alright, but in the wrong direction, pacing closer to the wall and Carl. You muttered a curse and lowered the rifle again, because now the shot was gone completely. 

"None of this shit's fair, kid," Negan said, not into the microphone now. Now, he was talking directly to Carl. "Hell, you know that. You had to kill your own mom. That is screwed up. Ergo, we need someone in charge who's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn't happen! Oh wait- that's me!" 

You shook your head with a quiet sigh. Manipulators were all the same, you thought tiredly. Will, Malcolm, Negan- each of them looked for weaknesses, circling like vultures. They picked up on the things that made you vulnerable and used them to tear you down and convince you that you were less than. That you needed their protection, their- their salvation. 

Fucking hell, you hoped the kid didn't fall for it. 

"Bad things do happen, but we can figure this out," Carl said calmly. "We can stop this."

"Now you want to talk? See, your dad had it that I died no matter what. He gave my people a choice, but not me." Negan shrugged, pacing back into your view, half-hidden behind one of his people. "Now we're going to need a new understanding. Apologies. Punish-"

"Kill me!" 

"The fuck you say?" you muttered, whipping your head to stare up at the lookout perch above you like you could laser-eyes your way through the wood to glare at the kid. "The fuck?" 

"What did you say?" 

Negan sounded just as fucking floored as you were, and you couldn't even blame him. You had only one clear thought going through your head right now, which was 'get Carl the fuck down before he does something truly stupid', and you abandoned hopes of taking Negan out in order to start weaving your way back to the ladder. 

"If you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishment, then kill me," Carl said, so soft and so very serious it froze your heart. "I'm serious."

"You wanna die?" 

"No, I don't. But I will. It's gonna happen, and i- if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different- for us, for you, for all those other kids, for Aunt Ace's baby and my little sister- it'd be worth it." 

You froze, hand wrapped around the ladder, and thought about Shane's face in the dark, on Hershel's porch after Otis had died so Carl could live. You thought about the things you'd done to keep Judith alive, a single shot in the silence and your knife in the base of Mika's skull and burying Lizzy. You thought about the moment you knew you'd protect the baby you didn't really want at all costs, and you wondered how in the hell the kid could be so utterly selfless when everyone around him taught him that scrapping and fighting and sacrificing and dying to keep yourself and the ones you loved alive was what was important. 

"I mean, was this the plan?" He was talking to Negan, only to Negan, but in that moment he was talking to all of you. "Was it supposed to be this way?" 

No. It wasn't. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Nothing in your life was supposed to be the way it was now, and Carl's soft, insistent voice had you wondering where you'd gone wrong- and, more importantly, how you could make it right. 

"Is this who you wanted to be?" 

You heard the engines first and then the crash, and you let out a long breath as Carl's spell shattered. The trucks had slammed through the wall in the back, and it was on. 

Here we go, you thought.


	56. Lie #56: "Being A Fucking Hero Is Fucking Pointless." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> references to domestic violence/abuse

Carl dropped down half the ladder, hit his ankle wrong, and rolled it right in front of your eyes. You darted out from the shadows and grabbed the bag that had fallen off his shoulder, holding it out to him with a glare. 

He stared at you, like he was shocked you'd followed him, and you shook the bag impatiently. You didn't have time for this shit, damn it. Not with Negan pissed and getting ready to start bombing the place any minute now. 

"Son of a bitch, Carl! Was that just a play?"

Your eyes widened at the level of pissed in Negan's voice, and you started hustling Carl along before your feet decided they didn't want to work anymore. Negan was so angry, like when he'd come in the room after Darrie had escaped and you'd just found out about the demonspawn, and his voice was starting to sound too much like Will's. 

"I thought we were having a moment, you little asshole! Bombs away!" 

No matter what you'd told Michonne, hearing 'bombs away' still hurt. This was the closest you'd come to a home since the prison fell, and now here you were with another egotistical asshole who couldn't handle not being head dick in charge destroying a place you'd come to love. The shots were followed almost immediately by the first of the explosions, and you and Carl both froze at the sheer extent of the instant devastation. 

"Fuck," Carl breathed, and you snorted. 

"No shit. Come on; we gotta move. We've bought everyone as much time as they're going to get," you said grimly.

He nodded and pulled a smoke grenade from his bag. He pulled the pin and tossed it down behind you, and the two of you limped off into the smoke. 

Negan wouldn't wait long to break the gates down. 

The church went up right in front of your eyes, but the two of you kept moving forward. The car that went up damn near in your faces was more of a problem, and you veered off a little to make your way to something resembling cover. The road and the open lawns were too exposed, for when the Saviors broke in. Smoke grenades would only get you so far, after all. 

"And what the hell was all that about killing you?" you snapped abruptly, mid-argument with the kid in your head spilling out without you bothering to back up and let him know what you were fighting about. "Have you lost your damn mind? That's fucking Negan. He could have shot you between the eyes right then and there!" 

Carl, to his benefit, didn't seem phased in the slightest by being dropped into the middle. "If it had worked-" 

"Oh fuck off with that shit and hobble faster," you growled when another building went up too damn close to you. You shot him a glare. "That self-sacrifice bullshit is just that. Bullshit. What use is being dead? You can't help anyone else after that. Being a fucking hero is fucking pointless. The right damn move is what keeps us alive. Just like your father and your uncle," you muttered, shaking your head. 

Carl half-laughed and pulled the pin on another smoke grenade. "A little like my aunt, too." 

"Shit," you mumbled, rolling your eyes. "You're not gonna flirt your way out of this one, kid. What's the plan from here? We're just booking it, right?" 

"Not entirely," Carl admitted. 

Your eyes narrowed. "What the fuck does that mean?" 

"You sound like Daryl when you get pissed," Carl informed you. He squinted into the burning town and shrugged. "Not everyone's out yet. Wasn't enough time. I want to try to keep them distracted looking for me, just for a little while longer." 

"And how the hell- shit, we gotta move," you snapped as another explosion went off near you. "You'd think they'd be tired of that by now, but no." 

Carl grunted. "We keep running around dropping smoke, they'll think more of our people are in here. Like- hey, look." 

You followed where he pointed and smiled as you saw Tobin toss a smoke grenade of his own, then wave a handful of Alexandrians carrying an entire arsenal of guns forward. That was a good sign; it meant the people had been taken care of. If Tobin had gone for the armory, he'd done the infirmary first. 

You considered what Carl was saying harder than maybe was wise, all things considered, but he raised a good point. "Fine. Ten minutes. Absolutely no more, and maybe less if things get hairy." 

"See? A little like my aunt too," Carl said pointedly. 

"Fuck right off, kid. You're the one who's going to have Darrie on your ass when we get in there." 

"Shit." Carl packed a lot of feeling into that one little word, and you grinned. 

You leaned against the window on someone's porch for a minute, both of you trying to catch your breath. You looked around at the fires and sighed, fighting back a wave of tangled, twisted emotion you didn't fucking have time to deal with right now. 

"This asshole is absolutely fucking up my art. Hours and hours of work he's destroying," you complained, trying to distract yourself. 

You'd seen the infirmary go up, so the Grey's Anatomy mural you'd done for Tara and Denise was gone. You had few doubts about the sunrise by the gate; if it wasn't gone yet it would be soon. Anything on or in your house was sure to be blown to bits when the bombs got there. And who even knew how many others. 

Thinking about the fucking art was easier than thinking about the heavy scent of smoke and all kinds of memories that it was stirring up. Merle would-

Merle wasn't here, you reminded yourself firmly. You were in Alexandria, trying to play ring-around-the-Saviors with Carl. Not in hot sticky Georgia, dirt and blood on your face from the neighborhood kids being assholes, and Merle looking for you with eyes that didn't look quite right. 

"You're worried about your paintings right now?" 

You shrugged. "Might as well be. They're- fuck. Fuck!" 

Glass shattered the window next to you, and you grabbed Carl and started running. 

Thick smoke boiled grey-white-black against the sky, twisting and turning into monsters that attacked the trees and roofs of other houses before turning against each other. You stared at the smoke monsters and felt the noise and the pounding in your ears and the terrible heavy smell fade away. You could see the flashing lights from the corner of your eye. You knew the men in yellow coats and hard hats were still running around, calling orders to each other. 

You'd been watching them, but your daddy was yelling at the policemen. You didn't like it when he yelled, so you started watching the smoke monsters instead. 

Blood trickled down your cheek and you swiped it away absently with the back of your hand. You'd been in trouble when Merle came. You wondered if that's what your daddy was yelling about- the kids who'd ganged up on you and Darrie. You hoped not. It was just a scrape from the rock you'd hit on the way down. You'd be fine. 

It'd be bad if your daddy got all mad about it though, because then your mama- 

Merle had come looking for you, and at first you'd been so relieved. When Merle was around, nobody messed with you. You were a damn Dixon, and Merle made sure the other kids all remembered that. 

Funny how they didn't say it with the pride you and Darrie did, but it didn't matter. Merle was there, and the other kids had gone running, which was good 'cause Darrie'd been about to fight everyone and that was too many. 

But Merle's eyes had been funny and his jaw had been all tight and hard, like when he was hurt, and he'd barely even seen the blood on your face. He'd just jerked his head and told you both to come on, and you hadn't liked the way he sounded, either. 

One smoke monster wrapped around another and squeezed, and in a flash both of them were gone, merging into something new. 

"Hey, lil sis. Lil bro," Merle called. 

You turned away from the smoke monsters reluctantly, and the noise all came flooding back. Your daddy was still yelling at a cop, and he was standing funny, so he'd probably had some of that stuff in the cans that smelled bad. Firetrucks and police cars filled the air with flashing lights, and one of them had a siren going. The firemen yelled to each other, and some of the same kids from earlier yelled too. 

You grimaced at the world and reached for your big brother's hand. Merle took it, staring at something over your shoulder until you turned around to look. 

There was nothing there except the firemen and the burning building, so you shot him a worried look. "What is it, Merle?" 

He sighed and squeezed your hand. "That's our house." 

"What is?" 

"The buildin' that's all burned up. It's our place," he repeated, nodding behind you. 

Darrie's head tilted to the side and he shot you a look when you turned to him, but he stayed quiet. You shrugged. "Ok. We'll fix it." 

"Naw, baby sis. We ain't fixin' it. It's- it's gone. All burned up. And-" He hesitated, and he looked so sad you impulsively kissed his cheek. He sighed. "Ya mama was in there, Ace. She was in there when it went up." 

"Ok. Did they get her out?" you asked slowly. He was telling you something, something you didn't want to hear, and you closed your mind to the thought trying so hard to worm its way in. You didn't want to know. Didn't want to understand. 

It smelled bad, and everything was so loud, especially your daddy back there yelling, and if he was yelling, then your mama was going to be crying soon, and you didn't want her to cry. It was just a scrape on your cheek; it was no big deal. 

You wanted to watch the smoke monsters some more. 

You'd barely made it across the sidewalk when both houses blew. One minute you were running and pulling Carl along side you, the next you were airborne and deaf. 

Just as abruptly, you hit the ground again. 

Smoke billowed out of the burning houses, and you shook your head in a desperate attempt to rid yourself of the ringing in your ears. You scrambled to your knees and looked around wildly for Carl, but- 

There was his hat. You didn't remember standing up, but you were on your feet and moving, and you decided that was a good thing, given the circumstances. Clutching the battered sheriff's hat in one hand, you spun around to find the kid when pain slashed through your body and sent tears springing to your eyes. 

"Shit," you gasped out, bending double in an effort to make it go away. "Oh, shit." 

You closed your eyes and breathed in, trying to stay fucking calm, but it was too much. It was too much, and between the smoke and the pain in your side you didn't know if you were six or seventeen or however the fuck old you were now. Tears leaked down your cheeks and you shoved a shaking hand through your hair to get it out of your face, but that didn't help anything either. 

Carl was still nowhere to be seen. You were alone in this hellscape, and you didn't have any idea what was wrong with you.


	57. Lie #57: "I Can Do It." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

Shane knew something wasn't right the moment they pulled up, but he held onto a vain hope that he was wrong. That hope was shattered the minute he saw the piles of dead walkers on either side of the Sanctuary doors. 

When Jadis ran and the shooting starting, he couldn't even bring himself to be pissed. He was only resigned. 

"Now what?" he snapped at Rick, both of them crouched behind some of the wreckage from the RV exploding. Bullets winged around them, and he ducked down further and tried not to think about where the fuck Negan would no doubt be going. 

Rick glared like he wanted to say something biting back, but the revving of an engine distracted them both. Out of nowhere, Carol and Jerry pulled up in a black SUV, screeching to a halt beside their hiding place.

Shane didn't need to be invited twice, and he followed Rick in diving into the backseat practically head first. Carol floored it before he even got the door closed. 

"They got out," Rick declared, rather unnecessarily in Shane's opinion. 

"No shit," he snapped. "Hasn't been long." 

"We've gotta warn everyone. They're gonna hit back," Rick agreed. 

Shane noticed he pointedly ignored the 'no shit'. He was contemplating how much of an asshole he wanted to be right now, because goddamn Jadis had taken her people and run out on them exactly like Shane had said they would, and Rick should know what he thought about that little fact. Loudly and repeatedly. 

But fear was coiled like a snake in his stomach, because that bastard was out and he was probably heading straight for home, which meant straight for Carl and Judy and Slugger.

He could be an asshole later, he decided. 

Carol and Jerry were debating if they could use the sniper cars at the east lookout to split up or if the snipers had used them to get away, and Shane snorted. 

"I don't think they got away," Rick put in grimly. 

Shane didn't think so either.

"Go ahead," Rick said, breaking the silence. 

Shane turned from staring out his window and worrying about what was going on at home and at the other communities. "Huh?" 

"Go ahead," Rick snapped, waving one hand in the air. "Say it. Jadis ran off. She betrayed us again. Get the 'I told you so' over with before we get there." 

"Shit, man," Shane sighed. He shoved a hand through his hair and shrugged. It wasn't really worth it after all. "Don't need to say it. Need to get on to solving the next problem." 

"Which is?" 

"Are you shitting me? He got out. We both know he's headed straight for home. Oh, he's sending people to the others as well, but that bastard and his bat are heading straight for my girl and our kids. We need a fuckin' plan, brother," Shane exploded. 

Rick's hands tightened on the wheel. "I know. I know he is. He was going to kill Carl last time. He won't hesitate to do it again. But we can't make a plan until we see what we're dealing with." 

Shane snorted. "Fine. You wait and see. I've got a plan." 

"'Kill his ass' isn't a plan, 22." 

They felt the explosions, shivering through the ground and rattling the car. Full dark had fallen, and Shane knew from the way the earth shook and the sudden, sickly orange glow on the horizon that Alexandria was in flames. 

Rick had the pedal on the floor, and Shane still felt like he was crawling. 

He wasn't prepared for what they found. 

They went in through the back, through the gaping hole where the wall used to be. Walkers were already on their way in, and Shane remembered the blind fear of the clock tower falling and taking part of the wall down with it. 

This was worse than that. 

Most of the town had been blown up, if what Shane could make out through the fire and the smoke was any indication. The fact that Saviors were still finding things to destroy had him gritting his teeth and shaking his head. Ace would be pissed about all the art, he thought abruptly. Especially when she saw their house. 

He and Rick hadn't needed to discuss where they were going first. It wasn't even a question- they were headed home. They needed to know if they had one still standing, and if the people they loved were ok. 

Rick's house looked untouched, except for the front door standing open. Shane's, on the other hand- 

Well, it was standing. That was the best Shane figured they could ask for at this point. 

He had the utterly irreverent thought that the moonshine in the cabinet was probably to blame for the scorch marks around the kitchen windows. Shit, the lump would probably have been pleased with that, Shane thought, fighting back a smile as he followed Rick up the porch stairs. 

There was no need to check inside Shane's house for anyone; he knew without looking that if anyone he loved was in there, they were dead. Rick shot him a frantic look and Shane nodded calmly, used hand gestures they'd learned in training to make a quick plan, and squeezed his brother's shoulder. 

He knew if anyone was in this house, it was Negan. And he had a feeling Rick knew that as well, but what the hell else were they supposed to do? They had to look. They had to know. 

Rick eased open the door and called Carl's name softly. 

They make it about three steps in before Lucille came out of nowhere and slammed into Rick's stomach. 

Shane slapped the catcher's mitt like the players on tv always did and squared up. "I mean, I can't believe they want us to do like two hours of homework after we've been in school all day already." 

"Seems unfair," Rick agreed, then grunted as he winged the ball Shane's way. 

The dull thwap of ball hitting glove was music to Shane's ears, and he tossed it back underhanded and soft to Rick. "Especially math. I hate math." 

"I don't hate it," Rick disagreed. 

"That's because you sit beside Lori and make goo-goo eyes at her for the whole class." 

Rick scowled and threw the ball a little harder than he had last time, and Shane grinned as he caught it. He held onto it while his best friend glared harder. 

"I do not stare at her!" Rick protested. "Gimme the ball, man." 

"Fine," Shane said with a laugh. He tossed it back, settled back into position, and waited until Rick was about to throw. "She asked about you in social studies." 

"She what?" 

Rick's throw went off, and Shane shoved an arm out to catch it. He miscalculated too, and the next thing he knew pain exploded in the middle of his arm. 

"Shit!" Rick yelled, running over eyes wide. "You ok? Shane?" 

Shane clutched his arm and started laughing. He could feel the tears trickling down his cheeks, but he couldn't stop laughing. "The look on your face, man. Holy shit. I think my arm's broken. Get your dad, would you? Shit!" He slid to the ground, still laughing and crying at the same time. 

"This shit isn't funny anymore," Negan declared as Rick went all the way to the floor. 

Shane ducked through an open doorway to see if he could sneak around behind the man, since he knew this house like he knew his own. He didn't like leaving Rick alone and down, but what the hell else could he do? 

He heard Lucille connect again, Rick's cry of pain, and Negan's continuous talking, and he wondered if the man ever got tired of hearing his own voice. Since he was currently telling Rick all about the plans he had for killing him slowly and publicly, Shane was going to assume no. 

He slipped in behind Negan while he was going on about feeding bits of Rick to walkers and making him watch, and when Negan swung the bat straight into the wall because Rick ducked, Shane made his move. 

Negan whirled at almost the same time, and Shane's shot went wide as the bastard grabbed the gun and jerked it to the side. 

Shane had been in this situation before, with a perp trying to take his own damn gun from his hand. He'd known then as he knew now that if the asshole succeeded, he and his partner were both dead. Number one thing was not to lose control of his weapon right now, so he locked his fingers around the gun and refused to give it up, like he had that day in King County. 

He'd lived then; he'd live today too, goddamn it.

"Hey, Dickhead. I'm gonna kill you too, but it'll be fast for you. Nope, you just need to die," Negan grunted. "So my princess will stop thinking she can save you."

Shane couldn't do much of anything but keep his gun locked in his hand, but Negan couldn't either, and Shane at least had backup. 

"Will you shut the hell up?" Rick snarled, staggering to his feet to slam a fist into Negan's solar plexus. 

Negan yelled and let go of Shane's gun, but somehow managed to jam his hand against the wall at the same time, and the gun went flying. Shane had half a second to think "well, fuck", but Lucille came at him and he forgot all about the gun. 

He'd played cat and mouse with an asshole before, and he'd been on the edge of winning. This time Shane wasn't looking for revenge, he just wanted it over. Unfortunately, Negan was one tough fucking bastard. 

"You know your kid volunteered to die? What kind of boy you raise, Rick?" 

The three of them had broken apart after a flurry of blows, all of them breathing hard, and Negan smirked as he stalked them around the kitchen table. Rick clutched his side and Shane wondered just how badly Lucille had hurt him. He tried to tune Negan out while he plotted his next move, but the man would not be ignored. 

"I'm gonna fix him. Cause I like him," Negan said with a smirk, circling closer to Rick. "In a few years, he's gonna be one of my top guys!" 

Shane stopped thinking. He charged in, hatred pouring into him at the thought of Negan ever having his hands on Shane's family again, and landed a good hit square on Negan's jaw. Then it became a blur of traded blows and Rick's voice in the background, and Shane had a sinking feeling he'd bitten off more than he could chew. 

He was never quite certain how it happened, exactly, but Negan got it a clean shot that had him on his knees and coughing. The bat came swinging and Shane knew it was over. He sent one last desperate thought Slugger's way, and the world went black. 

He couldn't have been out for long. The smacks and grunts of a fistfight trickled into his consciousness and Shane groaned at the pounding in his head.He wanted to stay where it was dark and cool and thoughtless, but Rick cried out. 

Shit. He forced his eyes open. His partner was in trouble; Shane had to help. You didn't leave your partner in trouble, damn it. He had to get Rick home to Lori and Carl, that was what he'd promised them. 

He staggered to his feet, barely conscious, and Negan laughed. He and Rick were squared off, both of them looking like shit, and Shane saw Rick's eyes dart to his gun on the floor.

Shane had the half-formed thought that maybe he could get it faster than Rick could, and somehow he ended up flying through the window. He wasn't sure how, and honestly he didn't care, because he stood up and had Rick's Python clutched in his hand. 

Rick and Negan were rolling around on the floor, and Shane tried to get a good shot at the bastard, but his vision was blurry and they were too damn close. He gritted his teeth, closed one eye so he would only see one of everything, and fired a shot into the air above their heads. 

Negan jerked with a wild look around, and that was all the opportunity Rick needed to scramble away from him. Rick took off and dove through the window, then climbed to his feet and grabbed Shane's arm. 

"Come on. Come on," Rick hissed as Shane tried to line up another shot.

He could make this one, he decided, since he wasn't worried about hitting Rick. "I can do it," he insisted. "I can-" 

There were two of Negan, and Shane didn't know which one he needed to shoot. 

"Shit," he muttered, and staggered off into the smoke with Rick.


	58. Lie #58: "I'm Good. I'm Good." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> character injury  
> references to past domestic violence/abuse  
> references to past child abuse

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think, you couldn't find Carl or anyone, and as the sound rushed out of the world, your feet froze in place. 

You'd done it again. You'd fucked up and now someone else, someone innocent, was paying the price. You'd talked back to Will and killed one baby, and now you'd chased Carl into a dangerous situation, playing cat and mouse with Negan, and you'd gotten both Carl and another baby killed. 

Darrie would be devastated. Dickhead would never look at you again. Rick would kick you out, and you deserved it, honestly. You did. How could you have been so goddamn stupid and- 

Carl stood in front of you, and you didn’t know when he'd gotten there. 

Relief warried with the pure adrenaline rush of panic, even as his lips moved and no sound reached your ears. Your lungs ached, your body hurt, and you stared at Carl's moving lips and willed yourself to hear what the fuck he was trying to say, but as usual your body wasn't cooperating with the tiny rational corner of your mind. 

Carl grabbed your shoulders and shook you lightly, then looked wildly around and made a face. "Come on, Aunt Ace, don't make me- Fuck. We gotta move. Shit!" 

You blinked slowly, your brain sluggishly trying to process the fact that you'd heard him that time. He groaned again, then looked you dead in the eyes. 

"I'm sorry in advance, but it's the only thing I can think of, ok?" he said urgently, then drew back his hand like he'd copy Darrie from earlier today and slap some sense into you. 

You grabbed his hand as you finally sucked in air. "I'm good. I'm good," you managed. 

It was far from the truth, but he clutched your hand and nodded, relief all over his face. "Thank fuck. We gotta go." 

"Straight to the tunnels," you agreed grimly. You handed over his hat and he flashed you a grin, and you very deliberately did not mention the fact that you'd killed another baby being stupid. You could deal with that later. Right now, you had to get the kid safe. 

You were right the fuck there at the sewer entrance when the Saviors started pouring in. They caught sight of you and you mumbled a curse, but Carl smiled and tossed the last of the smoke grenades down. He wrestled the cover off, dropped in, and caught you when you dropped down as well. 

"You're bleeding," he hissed at you, frowning at his hand. "What- shit." 

Both of you pulled the cover back into place as voices came near, Saviors looking for you in the smoke. They walked right over the cover without pausing, and you and Carl exchanged weary smiles. 

You'd done it. You honestly hadn't been sure you'd pull it off, but you should have trusted Carl to have his own dose of Rick's magic. 

"Good job, kid," you whispered, patting Carl's cheek. "Good job." 

Carl lead the way through the maze of tunnels until you were far enough from the entrance that he apparently wasn't worried about being heard anymore. He whirled on you, glaring in the gloom, and jabbed a finger in your face. "You're bleeding." 

You blinked, shrugged, and struggled not to think about it. 

Carl sighed and grabbed at your shirt, ignoring your protests as he did. "Like you wouldn't do this to me," he informed you snidely, then hissed. "Wish we had more light. You're cut pretty good on your side, Aunt Ace. I'm gonna-" 

He pulled his plaid shirt off, halfway folded it, and tied it roughly around your waist. You bit back the yelp with the ease of years of practice, but the kid was not being gentle at all. 

You couldn't bring yourself to protest, though. You couldn't get words out, and you weren't sure what they would have been if you could have. 

You'd fucked up. You'd fucked up and gotten hurt, and maybe gotten the demonspawn hurt too, and it scared you how much that mattered. 

And this time, Darrie and Merle weren't here to take care of it all for you. 

God, you missed your brother. Tears blurred your vision as you thought about Merle bringing groceries around; Merle standing up for you to Will; Merle carrying you to the truck and running about seventeen red lights. He and Darrie had been so scared, and you'd- you'd shut them out. 

Now it was too late. It was too late to tell Merle how much you loved the shit out of him, how much you needed your big brother, how much you appreciated that night and that week after. Because he was dead. 

He was dead and that was your fault too, and you'd never be able to tell him he meant the damn world to you. 

You didn't want to face Daryl. You'd gotten the niece or nephew he'd already fallen for killed; you'd gotten Merle killed; you'd gotten Daryl locked in that goddamn cell for so long; and now- now you might have gotten a second baby killed. He and Shane had been doing the hovering this time, and they'd both been so mad when you wanted to go along for part of the plan at the Sanctuary, and it turned out they were right. They were right, and you did do something reckless and get yourself hurt, and they'd be pissed. 

You didn't want Shane to be pissed at you. You wanted Shane to hold you and tell you it would be ok. 

Just like that it fucking hit you. What you'd done with Daryl and Merle, after the hospital- were you doing it with Shane? Were you pushing him away because you were so fucking scared? Were you- 

"Ace! Carl! Damn it!" 

You swallowed hard and mustered up a smile, leaning on Carl like he was leaning on you. "Hey, Darrie. How'd it go?" 

Your brother stared at you with narrowed eyes and didn't say a word. 

Darrie practically vibrated he was so damn angry, and you eyed him while Siddiq poked at your side. "Would you settle down?" 

"Fuck off. Ya bleedin'; kid's limpin'; Alexandria's bein' fuckin' bombed. I ain't gonna fuckin' 'calm down'," he snapped, pacing like Shiva in her cage. 

You sighed, bit back a hiss when Siddiq started using some of your meager medical supplies to put a couple stitches in, and reached for his hand on the way past while you made a face at Judy in Tara's arms. The whole clan was hovering over you and Carl, and you wanted to tell them all it was fine. You were fine. 

But you couldn't, because you didn't know if you were yet. Siddiq had said the cut wasn't all that bad, and when you'd gotten a look at it, you'd had to agree. Your back had been far worse, when Will gave you the scar. The cut would heal, and you'd probably never know it had been there, provided you didn't keep doing the dumb. 

The tunnel rattled and debris rained down. Yeah, you'd probably keep doing the dumb. 

But you didn't know about the baby yet. Somehow, considering how terrified of losing it you were, calling it the demonspawn just didn't seem right anymore. 

Darrie's fingers latched onto yours and he did at least stop pacing. "Michonne went in there. She ain't come down." 

"She what?" Carl snapped it, exploding half to his feet, and you leaned over and grabbed the back of his shirt to pull him right back down. 

"Sit. You're done. You're not going anywhere," you snapped. 

Carl sat. 

Siddiq glared at you, as much as the mild-mannered kid seemed capable. "I cannot close this if you keep doing that, miss." 

"You're doing fine," you told him gently. "I've been stitched far worse, like by this brute and our other brother." You smiled at Darrie to show you were teasing, and he rolled his eyes. 

"Ain't seen the cops yet either. Handled everyone on the convoy chasin' us but one. She got away, but he got him," Daryl said with a sneer, jerking his head toward where D leaned in the corner. 

Dwight didn't look up, and you didn't say anything to him. "Shit. We're gonna have to rescue them from that bitch, aren't we?" 

"Ya ain't rescuin' nobody, sis." 

You frowned but didn't dignify that with a response. Mostly because he was probably right. 

"There. I'll bandage it as well as I can, then look at Carl's ankle. I suspect it is sprained or strained, and not broken, considering how much he's been walking on it," Siddiq spoke with quiet authority, and you squeezed Daryl's fingers again before letting go with a sigh. 

"Before you do," you said softly, then trailed off. 

Siddiq paused and glanced from you to everyone gathered around, and the sudden air of bated breath. "Is there something else?" 

"I'm pregnant," you managed, not looking at any of them. "At least- I mean- It was a big explosion. And the cut, and- I've lost one before; got told I couldn't have them." 

"Naw, ya didn't," Darrie muttered. "Ya got told it'd be difficult. Not that ya couldn't. I knew ya wasn't listenin' that day, not really." 

You slow blinked at him, not prepared for that information at the moment, so you tuned it out and refocused on Siddiq. "I'm just- can you-" 

He hesitated, and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach grew worse. "I will do my best, but you are obviously very early along, and without equipment, I won't be able to tell you much. Prenatal medicine was not my specialty." 

"I get it," you whispered around the lump of fear lodged firmly in your throat. 

Darrie perched on the side of the cot you and Carl had set up for Siddiq, and you leaned against his shoulder while the young doctor poked your abdomen some more. 

He finally looked up, lips pressed together. "I cannot tell you much, I'm afraid. I don't think the trauma of one fall or the cut on your side would be enough, but until I can get you somewhere with some medical tools, and-" He gestured helplessly when another explosion rattled the walls, "- and far less of that, I'm not able to do anything more." 

"I get it," you whispered. "Thanks. Check on the kid, ok?" 

You pushed to your feet despite your brother's protests. You kissed Judy's nose and ran a hand through her curls, then held up a hand when Darrie tried to follow you. "I need a minute, ok? I'm not going far," you told him. 

You just had to get away from all the eyes, just for a minute. Just so you could breathe. 

Daryl was doing a poor attempt at flirting with one of your nurses. You could see it in his stance, in the smile that somehow managed to be both shy and cocky at the same time. 

You grabbed the wrapper to your plastic straw and threw it out the door, hoping to hit him in the face. It didn't make it that far, probably because you couldn't get much force in a throw due to having been, you know, stabbed. The paper fell less than two feet from your bed and you sighed. 

Dickhead would be horrified by your throwing skills. 

You pushed back that thought and grabbed your sketchbook, trying not to whimper at how much moving around hurt. You flipped it to a clean sheet and pulled the pencil from behind your ear, and in seconds, you had Dar's basic outline and were working on the lovely brunette he was hitting on. She was pretty and she was very nice to you, and you hoped your brother scored. Really you did. 

But you also really wanted your next dose of painkillers, and he was keeping them from you. 

You got Emily the nurse's basics done and figured you could do the rest from memory, so you closed the sketchbook and cleared your throat obnoxiously. 

Both of them jerked, Daryl shooting you a look part guilty and part annoyed, and you smiled at him as much as you could without ripping your split lip open again. "Hi. Sorry to interrupt that adorable moment and my brother doing his best to get your digits, but it feels like someone stabbed me, and well, I'd like that to stop." 

Daryl turned red to his hair and your smile went wicked, and just wide enough to crack the scab on your lip. 

Absolutely worth it, you decided. Absolutely.


	59. Lie #59: "We're Not Friends." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> mentions of past domestic violence

The explosions continued. Dust and dirt and small chucks of debris rained down from the tunnel roof whenever one went off too close. Everyone huddled together, expressions pinched and strained. 

Your twin had taken Judy, and she leaned against him with her fingers in her mouth, face pale and utterly silent. Poor girl had seen it all already, and she wasn't even two yet, you thought with mild dismay. She was going to need some therapy in the worst way as she got older. 

Kind of like you and Darrie did. 

You turned back to stare at the darkness outside the ring of candlelight, trying not to think. It wasn't working, and you weren't exactly enjoying being alone with your thoughts right now. You needed a distraction in the worst way. You needed to move, to paint, to sling a drink and slide down to the next person's problem in a practiced method of running away from yours. You needed- 

"I didn't know about the garbage people." 

You needed Shane, but D would do, you decided as you turned to him. He wasn't wearing Darrie's vest anymore, and he clutched his bleeding arm and stared at you like he was willing you to believe him. He looked like a person to you again without your brother's vest; like someone you would have tried to help, once upon a time. 

You wondered if his answers to Rick's favorite questions would have changed now. How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed? Why? 

"I know," you finally answered him. You sighed and gestured to his arm. "How bad?" 

"It's fine. Just a graze," he dismissed it. 

For some reason, that pissed you off. Maybe it was the macho sexist bullshit attitude that all things could be defeated with stubbornness and the power of male will. Maybe it was just one more thing in the column of things going wrong right now. Maybe, a corner of your mind thought even as you scoffed and grabbed at his hand, prying it off his arm one finger at a time, maybe you just needed something you could control, and D was it. 

He stopped protesting when you shot him a glare. You gestured sharply for a water bottle from one of your people sitting nearby, and dumped it over the wound to make sure it was, in fact, just a graze. If it was worse, Siddiq would have to handle it. You weren't digging a bullet out unless there was no one better qualified around to do it. 

"Why are you people so stubborn?" you demanded. "You think you know every damn thing better than we do." 

"You shouldn't even be talking to me," Dwight said softly as you dabbed at his arm. "You're one of them. Don't damage that." 

He was right; it was a just a graze. He was wrong about you. "I don't really know what I am," you whispered. "I'm carrying Negan's baby. Well. Maybe. I might have fucked that up too." 

"Doesn't matter." He shifted his arm so you could tie a strip of shirt over the wound, shrugging his other shoulder. 

You glanced at the burned side of his face and thought about Mark and Dr. Carson, getting vaguely queasy at the memory. You'd known the doc was innocent, and you'd stood there and watched, all because you were pissed that the man hadn't taken a risk and helped your brother. You were ruthless sometimes, you knew. Cold as ice. 

He'd only done what he had to in order to survive, and you'd let him die miserable because you didn't like his choices. 

"How you figure that?" you asked finally. "I'm not a Savior, but I'm not the same as one of them. Not anymore. I made my choices." 

"Yeah, you did. Same as me. But you only had a few of them, and they were all shit," D said, tone thoughtful. "Making a choice to try to save someone, even at your own risk- hell, I get that better than anyone here." 

"Did you hate her?" you whispered, lump suddenly rising in your throat. You remembered how he looked at Sherry, especially when she was near Negan. You remembered that steamy kiss in the lounge, in front of Carl and Daryl and Dwight, and how Negan had known they were there but Sherry hadn't. 

She'd enjoyed that kiss. She'd enjoyed Negan himself, for all his crazy and everything he put her through. Dwight had to hate her. Nothing else made sense. 

Just like Shane had to hate you. He just didn't understand it yet. He didn't see the reality of everything you did, everything you'd agreed to. 

Dwight sighed. "There were moments I thought I did, but I don't. I don't hate her. I can't. I love her." 

"How?" you whispered. Leaving aside the present tense, which just confirmed your theory that she wasn't dead after all, you wrapped your arms tight around your middle and tried not to cry. "Knowing everything- she slept with him. She thought she was pregnant too, for awhile. She was Negan's. How?" 

"She was never his. She did it for me," Dwight answered. "She did it for my life and hers, and being alive was better than being dead. I know she didn't hate him, not like you did. It doesn't matter. She was mine first, and that was her willing choice. Being with Negan- it's a choice, yeah. But when the only other one is to watch someone you love die, is it really a willing one? Don't be an idiot. Don't be miserable when he's still alive and still choosing you." 

You whirled to glare at him, suddenly pissed as hell that he'd dare to give you advice. "You tortured my brother. We're not friends." 

"I know. And he'll kill me for it, among other reasons. That's ok." Dwight shrugged. "Sometimes you need someone who isn't a friend to beat some sense into you." 

"Fuck off," you snarled, and turned deliberately back to the darkness. "Go away." 

You slung drinks at a truly alarming speed. The Lullaby was jammed, the boys in Grave Behavior were on fire, and your feet were screaming at you so loudly you couldn't think about anything but sitting down for five minutes. 

You were probably bleeding in your shoes, and you were in sneakers. 

"Behind you, babe," Jason called, and you stayed put as he slid past, ducking your head so he didn't have to lift the full tray up too far to clear you. 

"Aye, show off those muscles!" you teased, already on the move while he started passing out plates.

Mara, on a surprise visit- rock and roll was not her thing, but here she was anyway- laughed, clear and loud and sexy as hell. You eyed the men eyeing her in amusement, knowing she'd probably end up hooking up with one of them in the bathroom tonight, but none of them would get her number. Mara, God bless her, had issues with commitment. And men. 

Women too, if she drank enough, you thought with amusement. You winked her way and she waved a fry in acknowledgement, then turned back to having some serious eye sex with exactly the one you'd already pegged for her bathroom hookup tonight. Tall, dark, and handsome- exactly Mara's type. 

It wasn't like you encouraged casual hookups, especially not on the premises, but there were some things as inevitable as breathing on a Saturday night in the Lullaby: you'd make at least one round of flaming shots, Tim would break up a fight, and someone would be fucking in the bathroom. With Mara, there was a possibility for her alone to check off all three if she got wild enough. 

The doors opened again, letting in a swirl of cold air that only served to bring you temporary relief from the sweat running down your back. Then a familiar voice cut over the background noise you'd tuned out so you could close out a handful of tickets, and you looked up sharply from the computer. 

"Hey, girl. Wondered how long it would take to catch your eye." 

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Officer Dickhead," you answered with a smile. "Good to see you again. What brings you up to Atlanta?" 

You fought the urge to glance over at the stage, knowing damn well you'd probably get in a fight tonight if Mal figured out who Shane was. He didn't like your friendship with the officer, but he'd calmed down about it after the first few fights, when you refused to back down. You'd stayed in touch with some late-night text conversations, mostly when Mal wasn't around, but you hadn't seen Shane since he'd scrawled his number on your arm in Sharpie a month ago. 

He smiled now and took the Valhalla mug you didn't even remember filling. "Just needed a little adventure. Sat through Little League this morning." 

"And loved every minute of it," you countered with a roll of your eyes. "Don't act like you didn't. Listen, I'd love to chat, but-" 

"It's a live-music Saturday, Slugger. I know better than to keep the bartender occupied. Go light something on fire," Shane teased, waving with his mug. "I'm just here to listen to the band. Rockstar doesn't sound so bad tonight as last time." 

"Rockstar's name is Malcolm," you informed him dryly. "And it helps that he's not fighting a cold. Yell if you need anything, and I'll try to squeeze some conversation in later. Nachos?" 

"Sure, and start me a tab, baby." Shane winked luridly and you rolled your eyes, nodding to Julie and flashing a five-minutes sign when she pointed at the tray full of empties she deposited on the bar. 

"You're still an asshole, Dickhead," you informed him, hands already busy.

"Yeah, I'll own that." 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed Julie's try, dumping the empties into the recycling bin with a clatter that got lost in the rolling guitar riff and pounding drum beat of the last song in Mal's current set. 

"It's good to see you, asshole or not," you commented to Shane when the decibel in the room lowered considerably with the end of the music. You dropped the last of the replacements onto the tray and screamed Julie's name over Mal's end-of-set announcements. 

"Aw, sweetheart. You miss me or something?" Shane's voice was teasing as he leaned against the wall and sipped from his mug, glancing at it in surprise. 

You bit your lip and tried not to laugh at his carefully controlled expression, knowing he was expecting Sam Addams and had gotten Blue Moon. "Or something," you agreed, and sauntered off to make your way back up the bar. 

Your feet still hurt, but you'd almost forgotten about it. 

You needed the bombing to fucking end. That was all you needed. If the explosions would just stop going off, you could get yourself back under control and get moving on to the next task. Waiting was shit when things like Shane and Rick and your baby and all of Alexandria hung in the balance. 

Your baby. No longer demonspawn, you thought bitterly. When you might not even have it to worry about anymore, you fell in love with it. Sounded about right for your poor choices. 

God, you'd always been the worst at them. Mark. Mal. Talking back to Will. Going after art supplies. Negan. Loving this baby. 

Terrible life choices, you repeated to yourself, rubbing a hand soothingly over your stomach as it rolled with another distant explosion. The dead wandered around trying to eat the living. You were in the middle of war with this baby's crazed asshole of a father. And you couldn't stay out of trouble to save your life, and- 

"Slugger!" 

Your head whipped up at the low, urgent call, a barely controlled yell that had your breath catching in your throat at it's pure desperate wildness. Shane strode up out of the dark, blood on his face and something grim in his eyes, and you hurriedly swiped the tears from your cheeks. 

"Shane, what-" 

"I'm fine," he interrupted you, tone so sharp it almost made you flinch. "There's blood on your shirt, sweetheart. You ok? Is Judy ok?" 

"Judy's fine," you managed. You locked eyes with Rick and Michonne, reaching for Rick's hand as he brushed past the two of you, clearly in search of Carl and Judith himself. Rick gripped your hand and Michonne smiled faintly, but there was worry in her eyes as well. "I'm fine too. Well- Yeah, I'm fine. Shane, your face-" 

Shane snarled something dismissive, his hands sliding over your cheeks, down your arms, and grabbing at the hem of your shirt like he was going to see for himself. You started to bat his hands away, then gave in at the look he shot you. He hauled your shirt up, ran his fingers gently along the bandage, and let your tank drop as he sighed.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, and rested his fingers just above your navel. You didn't even know if he was aware he'd done it, and that- 

That was what did you in. 

"A house exploded," you whispered through the thick, clogging tears. "Carl and I, we went flying. When I got up, it hurt, and I- Dickhead, I don't know if- if-" 

You couldn't get anything else out, because the tears had started and now they wouldn't stop. Next thing you knew, your face was pressed into Shane's shoulder, his arms around you tight and his fingers in your hair. 

It felt like home. He felt like home. 

You clung to him, and you cried silently.


	60. Lie #60: "Rick Could Take His 'More Than Friends' And Go Straight To Fucking Hell With It." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> mentions of past domestic violence/abuse

He held her tight, face buried in her hair, and tried not to feel too much. He tried not to think that this was what he'd been missing for too damn long, her in his arms where she fucking belonged. It was only because she was so upset. It was only because she was terrified, with old pain and current fears. 

He shouldn't feel like maybe he'd finally come home, or she had. 

But he threaded his fingers through her hair and muttered nonsense to her while she cried, like he'd done a thousand times more than he ever should have had to, and with his eyes closed and her in his arms, he almost didn't think about the devastation of Alexandria or the fact that he'd had a shot at killing that bastard and he hadn't taken it. 

When she pulled away, he let her, but it cost him. 

She sniffed and swiped tears from her cheeks, and Shane resisted the need to pull her back to him and kiss the tears away one by one. "I'm sorry," she whispered. 

"Don't start, sweetheart," he whispered back. He knew what this baby meant to her, even if she wasn't willing to admit it. He knew she'd be half-mad with enough guilt and worry, she didn't need to be adding onto it for leaning on him. Never that, damn it. "Don't. I know." 

"I know you do, hero. That's why I'm sorry." 

He stared at her, every damn thought rushing out of his head with one word. Hero. She'd called him hero. She'd- 

She was staring back at him, something in those damn Dixon blue eyes drawing him in and stealing every goddamn bit of breath he had and replacing it with something strange. He wondered, faintly, if this was what hope looked like when it took on physical form- shining blue eyes he could fucking drown in, and maybe had. She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking from his even as they started to swim in glassy tears again, and he couldn't stop himself anymore. 

If it was a mistake, it was a goddamn mistake. He didn't fucking care. 

He took her face in his hands, swiping his thumbs over her cheekbones as the first round of tears fell. She drew in a shuddering breath, her lips moving soundlessly over his name- not Shane, he'd heard that all too much from her these days, but 'Dickhead', the nickname he never thought he'd cherish as much as he did. 

He gave her a chance to pull away, and she didn't. 

It was light at first, the brush of his lips on hers a question he'd never really had to ask before. Ace had always been his, from the first half-drunk kiss in the parking lot to the sunny morning what felt like a lifetime ago as she got ready to leave with her brothers and Denise and Rosita- the last time he'd kissed her goodbye. The last time he'd kissed her, period. He'd never worried if his lips on hers would be welcome, because he knew she was his. 

Now he asked, hesitant because this was all new and twisted and broken, and maybe this hesitation was healing but it hurt. It hurt to not kiss her and it hurt to do it like this, all careful and awkward and wrong. 

Then her hand locked on his shirt and she crowded into him, her body melding his as her lips did the same, and Shane's world finally, finally righted itself. 

He hadn't even realized how upside down it had been until she sighed in the back of her throat, her hand softening on his chest and winding up around his neck. He shuddered, not quite able to believe what was happening. 

Maybe he was still unconscious. Hell, maybe he was dead, and that damn bat had drunk his blood after all. He was just fucked up enough that his idea of heaven would be Ace in a sewer tunnel. 

Hell, Ace anywhere was his idea of heaven. Yeah, he had to be dead right? Whatever, if he was, at least he had his girl in his arms again. He'd take what he could get. 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could get her, not really sure if they were kissing or not. All he knew was she hadn't moved yet and fuck him if he would either; he'd missed her too goddamn much to risk having this ripped away from him again. 

He'd missed her so much, damn it all. His Slugger, and fuck fucking Negan for trying to take that away from either of them. They were Slugger and Dickhead, but only to each other, and that would never change. Never. 

An explosion went off too damn close, and Shane was going to ignore that, but something smacked him on the head and he looked up automatically to glare at the roof. 

Slugger started laughing. Shane scowled at her and watched as she tried fucking hard not to, but her face contorted with the need to hold it in and she couldn't. She buried her face in his chest for the second time, her whole body shaking in his arms again, but this time she was laughing her ass off and Shane honestly wasn't sure that was better than the crying. 

"You ok?" he asked her finally, and that just seemed to make it worse. Much like when she blubbered all over him- he'd been hanging with her brothers too damn much- he rolled his eyes, leaned back against the tunnel wall, and waited for her to get done with it.

"I don't understand." Lori's voice was a whisper, but Shane still heard it and wished he couldn't.

He stayed still on the couch, eyes closed, and pretended he was sleeping. He'd crashed for awhile, the collapse almost inevitable after the past- 

Shit. It'd been twenty-four hours, hadn't it? He thought. He didn't have to open his eyes and find a clock to know; if Lori was up and talking to Rick, it was morning. Which meant it'd been over twenty-four hours since he'd found his best friend on the ground bleeding, and over twenty-four hours since she'd told him they couldn't be friends anymore. 

He wanted to go back to sleep so he wouldn't have to think about that again. He wanted some fucking coffee. 

He wanted to kill Malcolm fucking Hall. 

"How does someone just… accept being hit? How can she be that stupid?" Lori whispered, her words barely registering over the sounds of her moving around the kitchen. 

Shane tried to work up the energy to come to Slugger's defense, because he knew all the reasons. He had the training; he'd worked more than enough of these cases to know. The bastards weren't bastards every moment. They didn't start out beating the shit out of someone. 

There was a thing, about frogs and a pot and boiling water. He'd heard it somewhere. 

"She's not stupid. She's abused," Rick said softly. "There's a difference, Lor. People like that guy, they get in their victims heads. She'll come around, but it has to be her idea. Shane knows that. He shouldn't have pushed her." 

No, he shouldn't have, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Not do his damn job? Slugger knew he was a cop. She knew he cared about her. She should have known he'd nail Hall's abusive ass to the wall, and- 

And this was probably exactly why she'd never come to him, he told himself. The sound and scent of coffee brewing filled the air and Shane almost opened his eyes then. Lori was making the real shit, not that pig swill Rick said was fine, and Shane's body responded to it like an addict offered a hit. 

"I just hope she comes around soon," Rick continued. "I'm worried about him. Ain't like him. I'm wondering if he's starting to realize it's something more than just friends." 

He couldn't fucking have that argument again. He stayed still and quiet and tried to fall back asleep, so he wouldn't have to think about the bruise on Slugger's cheek or the look in her eyes as she slammed the door or the number of times he'd had to tell Rick that she was his goddamn friend and that was all. 

So he wouldn't have to remember she wasn't even that anymore. Rick could take his 'more than friends' and go straight to fucking hell with it.

She didn't move when she stopped laughing, and Shane didn't either. It was like neither of them wanted to risk ending whatever this moment was, but someone needed to ask the fucking question. 

Shane took a deep breath and decided it would be him. "Slugger?" 

She stirred, and he heard her sigh. He loosened his grip on her, trying hard to block out the knife to the gut that hurt a hell of a lot worse that getting hit in the head had. He knew that sound. She would pull away again, slam the door and say she was sorry; that it had been a mistake, and they were still over. They were still done. 

He tried to brace himself, but he didn't think he could take it a third time. 

"I miss you," she whispered. "Dickhead, I miss you so fucking much, and I- I- I am so sorry." 

He was frozen again. "What?"

She did pull back, and he let her, staring down into Dixon blue eyes, her face streaked with dirt and tears but so intense and so familiar. He'd run his fingers over the curve of her cheekbones a thousand times before, and he ached to do it again. He wanted to feel her lean into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and he was doing it before he knew it, his knuckles skimming her cheek. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting slightly, and Shane went completely and utterly still. 

"Shane," she whispered, the word barely audible. "I'm sorry." 

"Shut up," he snapped. "What the hell are you saying?" 

"I can't answer that and shut up at the same time, Dickhead." 

The raw amusement in her words and in her eyes brought him back to something like himself, and he rolled his eyes before he remembered how much his head hurt already. "Shit. Smartass. Don't do that; I got hit in the head recently." 

"What?" she half-yelped, instantly tugging on him to run her fingers lightly over his scalp. "What the hell happened?" 

"Negan. I'm fine. He's still, sadly, alive. There were two of him and I didn't know which one to shoot," Shane told her. Even as he said it, he knew that answer probably wasn't all that helpful, but he had more important things on his mind just then. "Slugger, stop poking my head and look at me, damn it." 

She did, her whole face going soft as she cupped his cheek. "I am. I'm sorry. Shit, I've been such an idiot, and my only excuse is I was so fucking scared, and I still am, Shane, but-" 

She cut off abruptly, and he laid his hand over the one that still lingered on his cheek. She swallowed hard, eyes on the tunnel behind him, and he wanted to kiss her again and make it better but he couldn't. He needed her to say whatever it was she was trying to say, because he had to know if she meant it. 

"I love you," she finished finally. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I thought you couldn't possibly love me if you knew, but you've loved me through everything else, so-" 

That was enough. That was more than enough. He pulled her back to him, crushing her against him really, and in the back of his mind he knew that probably wasn't all that great for the baby, but he didn't give a shit right then.

When he kissed her this time, it wasn't a question. It was a goddamn promise. And she was promising him something right back.

\--- Hey 

Shane jerked at the sound his damn phone made, wondering what in fresh hell that noise even fucking was. He frowned at the message, one word and none of those dumb faces and nothing else, and then glanced around the bar.

Why the fuck was Ace texting him? He was sitting right here. She was-

\--- like it? 

He winced at the noise again, giving a sheepish smile to the woman near him when she shot him a mildly disgusted look. “Sorry. I think someone got hold of my phone and changed my ringtone.” 

The blonde looked less than mollified.

\--- What the fuck? Just come talk to me. I’m right here.

\--- But then how would I get to see your expression when you realize I made your ringtone two fucking pigs? 

He snorted, coughing on whatever draft she’d given him this time, and waved off the blonde three seats down. 

\--- Jesus, Slugger

\--- I win this round. 

“Don’t I, Dickhead?” 

He shook his head, still trying to clear his lungs, and shot her an amused look as she leaned toward him over the bar, blue eyes laughing. “Yeah, you win. I’ll get you back though.” 

She took the mug from him and winked as she refilled it. “I don’t know how you think you’re gonna top the pigs.” 

“I’ll think of something,” he said with a shrug. He settled against the wall and took the mug from her, waving it in her general direction before bringing it to his lips. “I’ve got a plan.” 

“Oh, you do, do you?” 

“When it comes to you? Always,” he shot back. And he did. The plan, he thought as she wandered up the bar still laughing, was to get her back.

Somehow.

Daryl's snort broke them apart. Shane didn't loosen his grip on her, but he did turn and give her brother a look. Then he softened instantly, since his daughter had her thumb in her mouth and her head on Daryl's shoulder, eyes wide but face calm. 

Ace reached for her, and Shane wrapped his arms around them both when Judy abandoned Daryl without hesitation. Dixon didn't seem to mind one bit, instead hitching his crossbow up on his shoulders and staring at Shane expressionlessly. 

"What?" Shane finally asked, annoyed. 

"Yeah, Darrie, what's your damage?" 

Daryl's expression didn't change. "Nothin'. Just glad I don't have to fuck up Walsh's face. We need a damn plan. You two done makin' out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this took so long but hopefully I'm forgiven based on the content! Love you all, and I'm back (again) lol!


	61. Lie #61: "Yeah, I Did. I Still Might." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

A plan was made. Shane hated it. Rick mostly hated it. To be perfectly honest, from the look on Daryl's face, he wasn't too fond of it either. You also hated it. 

Everyone's opinions proved to be largely irrelevant, at least until Rick informed you all he was going to see Jadis again and Shane lost his shit for a minute. That also ended up being irrelevant, and you saw the moment Shane decided he was going with Rick again in his agonized looked your way. You sighed, nodded, and cuddled Judy. 

It was Rick. Dickhead was going. 

He was just as unhappy about it as you were. 

While Rick, Shane, and Michonne went to talk to Jadis the bitch, the rest of you were trying to sneak your way to Hilltop with civilians and children and the injured and a couple large bags of guns from the armory. Darrie had been put in charge of this pilgrimage, and you couldn't agree more. 

Tobin had offered to carry Judy. They even had a sling carrier wrapped over his back so his hands would be free, and you knew it was a smart decision to let him take her. That way you'd be free to fight as well, and she'd be snug on his back the whole time, well out of danger. The only problem was, neither she nor you wanted you to tuck her away in there. 

So Judy had her cheek on your shoulder, Carl talked quietly to Rosita, and you walked with Darrie and kept half and eye on Tara as she stared at Dwight. 

"You an' the cop all made up now?" 

You lifted an eyebrow at your brother. "Excuse me?" 

"Don't play dumb. Caught ya suckin' face with him. Ya made up? Done with the bullshit?" he demanded, his eyes dancing. 

You knew you were being teased, but he was still asking a real question. Thing was, you were unsure. You wanted to say yes, but things had been so goddamn hectic you honestly didn't know. "I-" 

"Shit. Sore point still?" Darrie asked, tone far gentler than you would have expected. 

"I just don't know," you answered honestly. Judy played with your hair and you hitched her up in your arms as you grimaced. "We didn't have time to do a whole lot of talking. And then he had to go with Rick, and-" 

"Don't tell me ya mad about that shit." 

You scoffed. "Of course not. It's Rick. Dickhead's going." 

"Yeah. Owe him an apology," Darrie muttered. 

"Rick or Shane?" 

"Maybe both." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "You do."

"Gee, thanks sis." 

It wasn't that the distance between Alexandria and Hilltop was long, it was that it was uncertain. On foot, of course, it would take your people the bulk of the day if you traveled without stopping. Avoiding roads and Negan's patrols meant it would take even longer.

"Patrols, we got an Orange Situation. Dr. Carson and the priest. Might have split overnight, maybe this morning." 

The voice on the radio was faint over the distance, but you were able to make out most of what it was saying. Daryl had stopped everyone under the overpass to make sure the damn thing was clear, and he'd made a good call. 

Hearing Dr. Carson had gotten out of there made you happy. And the priest had to be Gabriel, right? 

The radio gave more directions, the patrol responded, and a vehicle drove across the overpass. You glanced at your brother, and he had a question in his eyes. You shrugged. You had no idea how many people were in a Savior patrol. That shit right there was- 

You turned and lifted your eyebrows at Dwight and he nodded. You decided that meant it was safe, and Darrie must have agreed with you. He went first, crossbow to his shoulder, and you followed on his heels. 

Tobin had Judy now- she was heavy and your arms needed a break- so you had a knife and your Glock at the ready in case of walkers or Saviors. The road was clear as far as the two of you could see, and Daryl gave one of the trilling whistles Will had taught you as kids. 

"Best to stay off the roads," he grunted as your people started coming cautiously out of the undergrowth. "Head into the woods right there." 

You nodded, made a face at Judy on Tobin's back, and fell in with him at the end of the line. Rosita and Carl had dropped back as well, and you had a feeling they wanted to be in on the plan. 

You also had a feeling there wasn't much of one besides 'keep going till we get there'. 

Tobin jerked away from the burned walker that dislodged itself from a tree and you jumped. 

"I got it," Tara called in a bored voice, and you relaxed. Then she threw the walker at Dwight when he offered to cover her. 

"Tara!" Rosita yelled, but you were already moving. 

Pissed as hell, you dropped your gun and dashed close, but D stopped you with a glare. He was struggling with it but had the upper hand, and you couldn't get a clear stab at it anyway. 

"What? It got away," Tara said with a shrug. "He can handle it." 

"Fuck right off," you snarled her way, just as D tossed the walker to the ground and stomped the shit out of its head, hand clamped over the graze on his arm and his teeth clenched like it hurt. 

"See?" she said mockingly. 

Daryl grabbed your arm and slapped your gun against your chest, so it was grab it or drop it on your own damn foot. "Just keep 'em movin'," he snarled Tara's way, pointing in the vague direction of Hilltop. 

She looked like she wanted to argue, but shrugged and started walking. 

"Ya can call me a girl's name if ya want, but ya gotta do it quiet," your brother told you, eyes on a second walker coming up through the woods. 

You scoffed. "I'm not pissed at you." 

"Why are ya pissed?" 

"She threw a walker at him. I know we hate him; I know what he did to you; but come on, Darrie. He's helped us. He did it all for Sherry. That's no different than what I did for Merle," you said softly, and you walked away. 

"Why didn't you let me help?" you asked D, falling into step beside him. 

He glanced at you and sighed. "Shouldn't be talking to me." 

"Yeah, you've said that before. Tough shit, 'cause I am. Why didn't you let me help?" you demanded again. You shoved a tree branch impatiently out of your face and lifted your eyebrows when you caught him looking at you. 

"We're not friends. We both know we're not friends," D said slowly. "When this is over, your brother is gonna kill me, and I don't blame him. You wanted to kill me too." 

"Yeah, I did. I still might," you admitted. "I'm not sure. No, we're not friends, D, but you're still a person. If we treat you like you did Darrie, we're no better than Negan. Have some water. Next time she throws a damn walker at you, let me help. Or someone else, but let's face it, I'm probably the best you've got." 

He took the water bottle and stared into the trees. "I won't let you." 

"Why the hell not?" 

"I have my reasons. Go back to you brother before he shoots me in the back, ok?" 

You rolled your eyes as Dwight handed you back the water and picked up his pace, putting distance between you. 

Men. 

You hooked your fingers through the cage separating Casey from the prisoners in the back of his car and gestured with your other hand. "Ok, but-" 

"No buts, Dixon." 

"No buts? None at all? Mine's pretty decent," you teased. 

He blushed a little and sighed. "Damn it, Dixon. Get your fingers out of the cage or I'll have to cuff you." 

You removed your fingers and laced your hands together sweetly in your lap, batting your eyes at him when he glanced at you in the mirror. "How's Mel's butt?" 

"My wife's butt is none of your concern. And I'm not sure she'll be delighted to hear one of my frequent arrests knows her by name," he said dryly. 

"You two have come in for drinks at the Lullaby. I was tending bar the night you got her pregnant. I think she'll be fine with it. When's she due? How's Baby Officer Casey looking these days?" 

"Perfect, as ever. Got another couple of months before we get to meet our peanut. We chose not to find out the gender," he said, his voice full of such delight you couldn't help but smile. "Mel's amazing. She keeps saying she's a whale, but I don't think she's ever been more beautiful. Shit, was that sappy? I'm arresting you, damn it." 

"And doing, as usual, an excellent job. We could chose to skip the booking part though and just grab some lunch and catch up. You know you could just call me to chat. Don't have to put us both through all this trouble." 

He shot you a look in the rearview and turned down his radio when it crackled. "Hardy-har, Dixon. I caught you red handed. Literally." 

As he'd taken the red paint from your hand, you could hardly argue that one. "Fine," you whined. "At least you didn't cuff me this time." 

"At least you didn't try to run," he shot back.

"So you admit that vandalism is a less severe crime than running from you when you try to arrest me for it is." 

He paused as he made a turn and cruised to a stop at a light. You both knew he was taking the long way to the precinct because he was enjoying your debate, but neither of you said anything about it. If you mentioned it, he'd have to go straight there, and you were having too much fun. You leaned forward in the seat and rested your folded arms on the chain as you waited for his response. 

"Cage, Dixon, damn it. Ok, fine. Running is worse than vandalism. That doesn't mean vandalism shouldn't be punished. At the end of the day, it's just not your damn wall. You can't do whatever you want to it, no matter how good it looks!" 

You sighed and got off the cage again. "So you admit it looks good?" 

Casey's groan made you grin. "Of course it looks good; it's yours. That's not the point." 

"No, your point is that I can't do whatever I want to something that I don't own without the authorization to do so. I'm not even sure I disagree, fundamentally. But." You pulled your beanie off and shook out your hair, then twisted it back into a bun and tugged the beanie back down. 

"But?" he finally asked, eyes on you as he sat for another light. 

You shrugged. "But I make the space better, and make a statement- sometimes- and most of the time, those who own the space are happy I did. Therefore, I'm not hurting anyone or anything. So, why arrest me?" 

"Because it's not yours. This argument is circular, Dixon." 

"A little," you agreed. "And you're missing something important from the situation." 

"Oh? What's that?" 

PD was in sight and you leaned on the cage again, as close to whispering in his ear as you could get. "Casey, when have I ever not run from you?" 

He pulled into the PD lot without a word, whipping into a parking space before scrubbing his hands across his face and pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. "Dixon?" 

"Yes, Officer Casey?" 

"Were you hired to paint that wall?" 

You grinned. "Yes, Officer Casey." 

"Goddamn it, Dixon!" 

"I told you we could just get lunch instead." 

Rosita and Carl ganged up on you, then looked at you expectantly. You rolled your eyes and nodded. 

"Darrie." 

He spun at your voice and hand on his sleeve, scanning behind him for everyone. "Where are they?" 

"They needed rest. They're exhausted; they haven't slept," Rosita said quietly. 

Your brother nodded, running a hand through his hair in a move that looked an awful lot like Shane's. You smiled a little and leaned into his side. 

"Yeah, aight. Ten minutes," he agreed. "I'll go cover our tracks. That'll help." 

"I'll go too," you said, straightening from his shoulder. You wanted to talk to him about some things anyway, and- 

"I have a question," Tara snarled. "Is there a reason why he's still breathing?" 

Your eyes narrowed as she jerked her thumb back at where D leaned on a tree, clearly as exhausted as the rest of you. "There a reason why you're being such a bitch about it?" 

"Ace." 

You shot him a glare but closed your mouth and took a deep breath. Daryl looked Tara in the eyes.

"The fight ain't over." 

"It is for him. I'm done waiting," she shot back. 

"Not now. Not yet," Darrie said after a pause. "Sis, come on. Ya need to eat somethin'. Check that damn bandage." 

You looked at D, wondering if you should stay, and he wordlessly shook his head. 

Men, you thought again, and followed your brother.


	62. Lie #62: "Well, see, I'm Not In The Habit Of Lyin' To You, Brother, So-" Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

It was Rick's idea to collect as much in the way of supplies as Alexandria had left. Shane didn't argue with that, since it was a good idea. He did argue with going to try to talk to goddamn Jadis yet again. 

"She abandoned us, man. That makes the tally something along the lines of: threw you to a walker; turned on us; wants to fuck you; threw us both to a walker; abandoned us to heavy fire," he ranted, ticking points off on his fingers as Rick calmly loaded supplies into the back of a van. "And you want to go back?" 

"Yes. Help me get this in here." 

Shane sighed, but grabbed the next bag and stuffed it in. "You're a moron. I never knew that until now, but goddamn it, brother. You're a moron." 

Michonne snorted from behind them and Shane didn't spare her a look. Rick did, fond and amused, before settling for a shrug Shane's way. 

He didn't get it. He really, honestly, didn't fucking get it. "Just- I don't know. Explain this one to me, damn it. She and her people are bad news." 

"She and her people are people. They're scared. You've heard her policy. Take, don't bother. Well, Negan's a whole lot of bother. I don't blame her for running when we told her we had him pinned and we didn't," Rick said, his tone the one he got when his patience was rapidly running out. "So, we give her one last chance." 

Shane didn't say anything until they were climbing into the van, Shane in the backseat so Rick and Michonne could sit together and make goo-goo eyes at each other. He missed Ace already, damn it, he thought, and shoved that aside. He couldn't worry about her and the baby while he was trying to deal with yet another spiked walker like he had a feeling was inevitable. 

So he settled for bitching at Rick. "I still don't get it. She turned on us. Twice!" 

"Shane, come on. You with me or not?" 

"Of course I'm fucking with you. I'm fucking here, aren't I?" Shane paused, glaring out the window as Rick started the van. "Can't believe he bombed my house and left yours undamaged. Asshole." 

"Complain a little more, Lump, I don't think they heard you in Georgia," Michonne said dryly. 

Shane cracked up, head back against the seat and laughing until there were tears in his eyes. 

"So," Rick said slowly. 

Shane had been zoned out in the backseat, worrying about Ace and Carl and Judy and Ace's baby and everything else, but mostly Ace and Carl and Judy and Ace's baby. He shoved a hand through his hair and took a look around, trying to figure out where they were. They were close, but not quite there yet, and Shane pulled out his gun to check it again. 

"Yeah?" he asked when Rick didn't say anything else. 

"I told you." 

He glanced up at Rick, confused. "What the hell you talkin' about, brother?" 

"I told you," Rick repeated. 

Michonne covered her mouth with her free hand- the other was wrapped loosely around Rick's, and damn was that sweet- and turned to stare at something interesting out the windshield. Shane had no idea what the fuck was going on, and he chose not to continue the comedy skit Rick was starting to take them down. He slammed the magazine back into his Glock and holstered it, letting the silence grow until he couldn't stand it anymore. 

"What the fuck you mean, you told me?" he demanded, shoving a hand through his hair.

He was fairly certain Michonne was laughing or having some sort of seizure with how hard her shoulders were shaking. Rick's face was serious, his tone damn near solemn, and it took Shane a minute to realize what was going on because of it. 

"I told you. You were both being idiots. I told you." 

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Shane muttered, turning back to the window. 

Rick laughed. "No. Sorry, 22, but I didn't get a chance to yell 'I told you so' at you when you two made up in Atlanta, or when you finally admitted it wasn't just goddamn friends, so I'm going to now. I saw that kiss. Don't deny it. You two made up." 

"I don't know what we did," he muttered. "I think so, yes. It's- we didn't have a chance to hash everything out. She's worried she lost the baby." 

Rick's expression sobered, and Shane saw his fingers tighten on Michonne's. "Yeah, I know. I'm worried for her, but…" 

He trailed off and Shane snarled. "Don't, man. Don't even suggest it. You know what losing another one would do to that woman? Shit. Don't go there." 

"You're right," Rick said immediately. "I'm sorry." 

"Ain't me you'd need to apologize too," Shane muttered. "Daryl'd take a damn swing at you for it, though." 

"Daryl already did take a swing at me." 

Shane snorted. "Not over his sister and you know it. That was Dixon fighting clean. Upset Ace and he'll fight dirty." 

"That mildly terrifies me," Rick said blandly. 

"It should," Michonne put in. "Those boys are fierce about her. Were? Are?" 

"Are," Shane said instantly. "I'm pretty sure Merle threatened to haunt my ass if I didn't take care of her. I assume he's doing it anyway, just for shits and giggles." 

He held up a middle finger to nothing in particular and Michonne laughed. Soon enough all three of them were flipping off Merle's possible ghost and grinning. 

Shane liked to think Merle would have appreciated it.

Shane checked the computer absently, but nothing was coming down the pipe. He was bored, and he and Rick were stuck on speed trap duty. He was honestly contemplating taking a nap. He yawned and adjusted his hat to block the sun a little better, tipping his head back against the driver's seat. 

"Late one?" Rick asked blandly. 

"Messy one," he admitted with a grimace, running his fingers through his hair. 

"What kind of messy? The kind I don't want to know about, or the kind I'll find endlessly entertaining?" 

Shane hesitated, wondering how much of an 'I told you so' he was up for today. But hell, he was bored, and to be honest, he'd earned a little gloating from Rick for this one. "Well. You remember Diana Henderson?" 

"You did not." Rick sounded goddamn appalled, and Shane bit back a laugh and somehow managed to keep his poker face at Rick's expression. "Shane Walsh, tell me you did not."

"Well. See. I'm not in the habit of lyin' to you, brother, so-" 

"Shane, you idiot!" 

He cracked up then, leaning back in the seat and fucking howling. "Yeah. Yeah, I am, but not for that reason, aight? So I bumped into Diana while I was running around Atlanta last week with Slugger, and turns out, they know each other, cause Slugger knows every damn bartender in the city, apparently. She calls it 'professional courtesy.'" 

"I should have known this story would involve Atlanta," Rick sighed. "What happened? Things with Diana were-" 

"Oh, it was a train wreck," Shane said cheerfully. "But with Slugger there, it was less of a train wreck than it could have been. Woman can talk to anyone, and they knew each other, see. So somehow we all end up at another place, where they both know the bartender- Billy- and Slugger casually mentions to me later that her brothers hang out there sometimes, which spells goddamn trouble for me considering at least one of them is all up in that gang life, man; I mean all up in it. Anyway, we're having a casual drink and a bite to eat, and the next thing I know, Diana's inviting me and Slugger to some party she's throwing, and we, idiots that we are, are saying 'sure, why not; sounds fun'!" 

Rick just groaned, check the speed of the first car they'd seen in twenty minutes, and waited for Shane to continue. 

"We were at this party last night for all of five minutes, man, and we are mocking the shit out of it. I don't know when Diana got so goddamn pretentious, but shit. It was terrible. Ace looks at me and I'm trying not to crack the fuck up because she's got that look in her eye that spells trouble. I was right. She gets us kicked out, and yelled at by Diana to boot, right?" Rick was openly grinning now, and Shane grinned back. "Then it gets better. Remember Amy?" 

"The woman Diana started dating after you two broke up? Yeah, I remember her." 

"Turns out, she and Diana split too, like two weeks later. Amy was there, and she leaves with us, and says 'thank you; I couldn't figure out how to leave'. And-" 

"Please tell me this story doesn't end with you in bed with your ex-girlfriend's ex-girlfriend." Rick had a hand over his eyes, his voice pained, and he looked at Shane when he paused. 

Shane grinned. "It does not end with me in bed with Amy." 

Rick started to relax, and Shane shrugged. 

"It was a couch." 

"Damn it, 22!" 

"I said it was messy. Ok, fast forwarding to after, and Amy's all 'this is a one night stand, you know that right?' and I'm like 'baby, I should think so', and it seems we're gonna part ways as mutual friends," he said with a wave of his hand. 

Rick's eyes narrowed. "But?" 

"But," Shane agreed. "But then, Diana opens the door, with her key, and comes strolling in. Turns out, they broke up, but they're fuckin' roommates, man. Roommates. And they didn't tell me. I had to call Slugger to come rescue me." 

"Jesus Christ, Shane," Rick groaned. "You're such an idiot. Why don't you just date Atlanta?"

Shane knew damn well what his friend meant, but he couldn't pass up an opening like that. "I mean, I've dated most of it." 

"Damn it, 22!" 

They got close to the junkyard's entrance and there was no sign they'd been detected. There were no turkey calls, no whistles, no movement, no nothing. 

Shane started to get a damn bad feeling. 

Out of the van and into the shipping-container-turned-tunnel, and still there was no sign of life. The unease grew, and when they discovered the far door cracked open and light spilling in, he couldn't stand it. He grabbed Rick's arm and drew him to a stop. "Let's just go, man. I've got a bad feeling about this." 

"Ok, Solo," Rick muttered, never taking his eyes from the door. "We have to give them a chance." 

"We gave them a chance. And a second chance. This is a third chance, which is a damn sight more than they should reasonably expect, damn it," he snarled, but he followed at Rick's shoulder, pushing the door open. 

Piled garbage and debris came raining down on their heads, and Michonne shoved them both out of the way. They stared at the pile now more than effectively blocking their exit, and Shane sighed. He shoved a hand through his hair and spun to look around, frowning down at the spilled blue paint that Rick stepped in, and that's when he heard them. 

Hisses and snarls and growls turned into an oncoming tide of Jadis' people, now walkers, and headed straight for them. 

"I told you so, asshole," he grunted as he grabbed Rick and started hauling him away, further into the landfill. It wasn't his favorite choice in the world, but they needed to find another exit or a good spot to make a stand, and that sure as hell wasn't right here. 

Rick scowled and started to respond, but Michonne cut them both a scathing glance. "Can we have more surviving and less petty bickering please, boys?" 

Yeah, Shane thought as he glanced around. Maybe that was a good idea.


	63. Lie #63: "Didn't Make It Right, Either, Or Something That Should Be Forgiven." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> past child abuse

"If they're smart, they'll cover all these passes between here and the Hilltop," Daryl said grimly, pointing at the map. 

All four of them looked to you, like maybe you knew what Negan was smart enough to cover. You shrugged. "I have no idea. I wasn't exactly privy to command decisions like that, guys." 

"We have to keep moving. We'll just have to risk it," Rosita said with a sigh. 

"Maybe you don't have to." 

Tara looked like she wanted to use Negan's threat to Carl and drive a toothpick through D's eye, and Carl grabbed her arm to calm her down as she whipped Dwight's way. Your teeth ground together, because for shit's sake, Tara. He killed her girlfriend. You got that. He also tortured your brother, killed a fuckton more people, and you had no doubts at all had done some other questionable shit in the name of survival. 

How many of the Savior's girlfriends and boyfriends had your people killed? Back in the warehouse, with Maggie, when Paula and her team had kidnapped you, the girl had mentioned you'd blown her boyfriend to bits. 

And then she'd lost her baby afterward. 

"Negan won't send his people down into this stretch of swamp," D continued cautiously, leaning around Tara to point at the map. "Not if he doesn't have to." 

"Yeah? How do you know that?" Tara snapped. 

"For shit's sake. Weren't you all just looking at me for exactly this kind of information?" you snarled in response. "He was in the chain of command." 

"Ace," Dwight said softly. "It's alright. Negan wanted to map the best routes with cover from the Sanctuary to the Hilltop. He- he decided the swamp was too dangerous. Didn't think it was worth the risk." Dwight looked at Daryl as he said it, and Daryl looked at you. 

You shrugged. "Again, I don't have a clue. Pampered 'wife'-" you sneered the word as you gestured at yourself "- actual muscle." You hooked a thumb Dwight's way to emphasize your point. "But it sounds like Negan." 

"You aren't seriously gonna listen to him?" Tara exploded, shooting to her feet. Carl grabbed at her arm, but she shook him off. "It's too dangerous for the Saviors, so you're gonna send us? Are you shitting me?" 

"They have us boxed in," Rosita said calmly. 

Daryl folded the map, eyeing Tara without a word, and you watched D and wondered what game, if any, he was playing. Carl settled his hat more firmly on his head and glanced over at where Tobin had Judith. 

"It's not my favorite plan," the kid said slowly. "But Tara, they're right. Not worth the risk to map, maybe, but we've got higher stakes than that." 

"Tara has a point," Tobin called, sounding reluctant. "Why should we trust him? He could turn on us like he turned on his own people." 

"Oh, for-" you muttered, tossing your hands up, but D and Daryl both shook their heads at you. You almost called them both out on macho sexist bullshit right there, but Dwight shut you up rather effectively. 

"I didn't just turn on 'em. I killed 'em," he said flatly. "Daryl saw it. Rosita saw it. You saw it," he added to Tara.

You hadn't known that, and your head tilted as you considered what exactly that might mean for him in the long run. It didn't change any of the black marks against him, but it did leave you with more questions about why he wouldn't fucking let you help him when it came to Tara's anger and the others' distrust. For shit's sake- 

He sighed. "But one of them got away. So if they find me, Negan puts my head on a pike. I'm not working for them, and I'm not going back to them. I chose my side; this is it. I'm here to help you beat Negan. After that? Well, I know how it ends," he said with a wry chuckle. 

Tara stared in pissed the hell off. Rosita looked like she didn't give a shit, and Carl was eyeing Dwight in a way that made you wonder if the kid was trying to think of a way to save him. Darrie looked at you. 

You shrugged. "Nobody's proposed a better plan," you said simply. 

Tara scoffed, but Darrie nodded. 

"Aight. We try the swamps."

"Swamps," you agreed, and hauled yourself to your feet with the help of his hand. "Hope there's no rodents of unusual size." 

Carl laughed, at least. 

The only thing worse, in your opinion, than being at the cabin was being at the cabin and being sick. You felt like absolute shit, and Will didn't seem to care one little bit. 

Not like you expected anything any different, but it still sucked. Especially in the fuckin' heat, with your stomach all upset and shit. It was miserable. 

Will had kicked all three of you out to roam the woods for awhile, and you were following behind Darrie and Merle and hoping for death. Dramatic? Maybe. But you were ten and you wanted to puke, and you were tired of no one giving a shit. 

Maybe if you puked on Merle, at least your older brother would notice how shitty you felt. 

You were contemplating just that- and getting really, really lightheaded- when Darrie turned abruptly, out of nowhere, and frowned at you. 

"Ya aight, sis?" he asked. 

Merle snorted before you could respond. "Of course she's aight; what ya talkin' about? She just all bent outta shape 'cause we're here and not at home where she could get all buried in that damn sketchbook." 

You swallowed hard and glared at Merle, but he was blurry and you really, really didn't think talking was the best idea you'd ever had. "Oh, shu-" 

You'd been right about talking, but when your stomach was empty you felt a little better. Sort of. 

"I don't feel good," you mumbled, leaning back against a tree. 

"No shit," Darrie said, sounding almost awed. "What the hell?" 

"Watch ya mouth," Merle told Darrie. He put a hand on your forehead and muttered a much worse word than Darrie had. "Ya got a fever." 

You blinked at him tiredly. "Watch ya mouth, Merle." 

"Hush. Lil brother, sis needs water and some sleep," Merle directed, picking you up with a grunt. 

You started to protest being carried, but then what he said and where he was headed sank in. "Will kicked us out!" 

"Yeah, an' then ya puked up half the world and ya forehead feels like Satan's anus," Merle grunted. "I'll handle Will." 

You wanted to argue that, because 'handling' Will would most likely mean getting yelled at or worse. But you really did feel like shit, and all you wanted was your bed at home and some ginger ale. You'd settle for your sleeping bag here and some water, you supposed, as long as it meant you didn't have to wander around the woods anymore.

Will wasn't even there when you got there, and neither was the car. 

"Shit," Merle muttered. "Hope he fuckin' wrecks it and dies." 

You didn't. "If he's dead, CPS will split us up." 

Merle scoffed, but didn't say anything to that. "Least we can get ya settled on the couch without him bitchin' at us. Daryl, get some water. And the thermometer, if it's still in the first aid kit." 

You shivered and your stomach rolled. "Merle." 

"What?" 

"She's gonna puke again," Darrie said seriously. He appeared with a glass of water and the bucket they used to catch the innards of a deer when they got one. 

That thought alone was enough to have you snatching the bucket from his hands and using it. You curled into a miserable ball when you were done and had drunk some of the water, eyes heavy and desperate for the oblivion of sleep. 

They popped right open when the car door slammed. 

"Shit," you whispered. 

Merle's jaw set and he stood, shoulders going straight. "Darrie, stay back. Don't get involved. I'll handle it, but you gotta make sure sis don't puke on nothin' and make it worse, ya hear? Don't get involved." 

Daryl hesitated, but finally nodded, standing at your side as the door banged open and the sound of drunken female laughter filled the air. You struggled to sit up, but Darrie pushed you back down. 

Will had some drunk bimbo plastered all over him, staggering through the door together. She had cut off shorts so short the pockets hung out the bottom, a tank top that rode up her waist, and dirty brown hair that fell over her shoulder in messy, tangled waves, and her lipstick had left stains on Will's cheek and neck. 

Will's eyes fell on the three of you and he froze. "The hell ya shits doin'? I said to get out in them woods today an' find us some dinner! Daddy needed some alone time." 

"Ace's sick, sir," Merle said quietly. "I think it's the flu." 

"And? She can puke in the woods, cain't she?" 

Merle's shoulders hunched, but he didn't back down. "She needs to sleep, sir. An' get some cold water. Might need a doctor. She's real warm." 

"Course she's warm, boy, it's Georgia! Now, all three of ya clear out like I done said!" Will roared. 

Merle glanced at the two of you and you started to climb to your feet again. It wasn't worth it. Will was serious, and the next step would be Will reaching for his damn belt. 

You'd rather go stagger around the swamp for awhile than see Merle get hurt again. 

"Lay down, sis," Merle said firmly. 

Will's eyes narrowed. 

You and Darrie were in the lead when Dwight joined you. You had to be getting close, and D's presence at your side confirmed it. 

"This works, it don't change shit," Darrie said bluntly. 

Dwight didn't seem bothered. "Everything I did, it was for Sherry. Doesn't make it right, or something that should be forgiven. But it's the truth. Only one I got left." 

You chewed on your thumbnail and thought about that a little too hard. Everything you did, you did for Merle. Didn't make it right, either, or something that should be forgiven. How the hell could Shane- 

You forced that out of your mind, because worrying about if Dickhead could actually forgive you or not would leave you curled in a ball crying and you had shit to do still. Like survive the swamps, which promised to be horribly unpleasant and you were not looking forward to it at all. 

"She's the one that let you out," Dwight told Daryl. "Then she ran. Once she was gone, I got your sister out." 

"She's out here?" Darrie asked, his voice different than the way he'd snapped earlier. 

"Somewhere," Dwight agreed. Then he whispered the next, staring at the ground. "I hope." 

You offered him a tight smile when he looked back up. "She is. She's tough. She wouldn't have run without a plan. And I knew you were lying about her being dead as soon as you came back." 

"And you backed me up anyway," D said slowly. "Why?" 

You shrugged. "I really hated the doctor." 

Daryl whistled lightly and held up a hand to stop your caravan. Your nose wrinkled as you looked out over the pools of still, stagnant water. 

Yeah, swamps were nasty.


	64. Lie #64: "One Night And One Night Only, Baby." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> discussion of miscarriage/pregnancy loss

They ended up surrounded far more rapidly that Shane was happy with, that was for sure. He and Rick glanced at each other, Shane fired off another bullet, and Michonne's voice cut through the chaos again. 

"Come on!" 

She sounded damn impatient, and when Shane looked wildly around for her he had to admit she had a good reason. She was halfway up one of the junk-heap walls, glaring down at the two of them like they were idiots. 

Shane grabbed Rick and shoved him up ahead, following on his heels. He felt the hand latch onto his ankle and didn't even turn. He kicked out once and it didn't let go, so he fired a shot over his shoulder, eyes on his next hand and foothold, and kicked again. The hand came loose, so he kept climbing. Rick and Michonne pulled him up over the ledge onto semi-decent footing, and he stared down at the swarm and wondered how the fuck they were getting out of this one. 

And just what the hell had happened here. 

"Rick." 

Shane's gun was trained on her without a thought, though she looked far less like a threat now than the last time he'd seen her. Jadis wore a thin white dress, her feet bare and dirty, and her eyes were bloodshot and cheeks covered in tear tracks. Shane watched her avoiding truly looking at any of her people down below, and he could tell she'd cared. 

"What happened here?" Michonne demanded, cutting right to the heart of what was on Shane's mind. Caring for her people or not, they were all dead and she wasn't, and she'd turned on them too many times for Shane to trust what was happening now. 

She sighed. "The Saviors." 

Shane somehow wasn't surprised. Call him cold, but he also didn't much care. "How the fuck do we get out?" 

"Get out how you got in." 

"Shit," he muttered, scanning back over the heaps and paths to the now-buried entrance. "Guess that's the only way. I told you this was a bad idea, brother." 

"You gonna bitch or help me figure this out?" Rick muttered back. 

Shane couldn't help the smile, and he made sure Rick saw it. "Can't I do both?" 

"These weren't heaps before," Jadis called. She hadn't moved from her perch higher up, and Shane ignored her in favor of checking his gun. "It was just trash, laid out as far as the eye could see. I used to come here to find things to paint on. Metal sheets. Fabrics. And then after… everything changed… I realized this whole place was a canvas." 

Her voice broke at the end, and Shane suddenly realized she was using full sentences and not that weird pared-down version of speech she and her people had adopted before. He eyed Rick, who was watching her now as he reloaded the Python, and wondered if Rick was about to do something stupid. 

"We were the paint. We could create something new," Jadis went on brokenly. "We could become something new. We did. This was our world. Apart from everyone else, in every way." 

He shouldn't have worried. Rick had watched her steadily as she spoke, but he turned and glanced at the walkers shambling below before facing her again. "You did this," he said bluntly. "This is because of you."

Shane was damn impressed. Jadis flinched back from the venom in his tone, but she didn't move or fight it. Considering she and her people had abandoned them both at the Sanctuary and run away, Shane agreed with Rick. 

He also had an idea. 

"Rick," he said, shoving his gun into the holster to free up both hands. He bent and picked up a car door, slow smile forming on his lips. He glanced over his shoulder at Rick, who had already scooped up some old towel and wound it around his hand. 

Rick nodded, bending to grab a twisted piece of metal coming off what looked like half an oil drum. Shane set a foot on the drum and Rick bent the twisted piece back, and they had a second one. 

"Need a third," Rick grunted, hefting the oil drum and handing it to Michonne. 

"Naw," Shane disagreed. He passed the car door to Rick, who frowned at him wordlessly. Shane shrugged. "I'll be right behind you, but I'll have my hands free to cover your asses. Gonna have to-" 

"Clear the door; I know. Might be-" 

"Yeah, could try," Shane agreed, since climbing over the fallen garbage had been in the back of his mind all along. "Ready?" 

Michonne shook her head at them both. "Are you sure you're not married?" 

"No," they said at the same time. 

"Let me come with you," Jadis asked tearfully from above them. 

Shane barely spared her a glance, and Rick scoffed. "I'm done with her games. She couldn't help us anyway." 

Rick lost his shield somewhere along the way, but they were close enough Shane knew they'd made it. A few more shots, a well-placed swing from Michonne's sword, and they were back at the entrance. 

Jadis was following them. 

They scrambled to the top of the new pile, all three of them heaving shit out of their way until there was enough space in the still-open doorway for them to slip through. Shane checked on Jadis and found her holding half a metal chair, doing more evading than attacking. She saw him looking as Michonne slid through the gap. 

"Wait! Please! Just- Just let me get out!" 

Shane turned away, but Rick didn't. He lifted the Python and fired once, in Jadis' direction, and Shane couldn't fucking believe his eyes. 

Before he could ask, Rick was impatiently gesturing him through. 

"I shot above her head," Rick said. "I just wanted her gone." 

Michonne's eyes met Shane's in the mirror, and neither of them spoke. Rick sighed, glared at them both, and turned back to the road. 

"I saw her. She made it. She ran into an empty alley just before I left." 

"Ok," Shane said slowly. 

Rick stared at the road, his hands tight on the wheel. "I didn't want her dead. I just wanted her gone." 

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, brother," Shane muttered. Then, louder, before either of them could glare at him. "Whatever, man. Hilltop, right?" 

He wanted this conversation to be over, because now that they weren't two seconds from dying, all Shane could do was worry. Jadis and all her talk of creating worlds, of being paint and making the landfill their canvas- it reminded him of Ace. She looked at the whole damn world like that, and had since before it went to shit, and suddenly Shane was angry and worried about her, and questioning, once again, why he wasn't at her fucking side to hold her hand. Especially if she'd- 

He leaned forward and snatched the radio Rick had picked up from a dead Savior, settling back into his seat and staring out the window. He could feel the eyes on him from the front seat, but he didn't give a solid shit. 

"Get me Negan," he demanded into the walkie. Rick slammed on the breaks and Shane tuned out both of their protests as the radio crackled. 

"Who the hell is askin'?" 

Shane scoffed. "Dickhead. Get me fucking Negan." 

"Dickhead! Look at you, calling me up. How's that head of yours? You took a hard hit from Lucille. Why don't you come in, so we can get you checked out by the doctor and we can do this face to face!" 

Shane shook his head and half-laughed. "You asshole. Ace lost the baby." 

Silence on the other end. Both Rick and Michonne were fully turned around in their seats now, staring at him like he was the world's biggest idiot. Maybe he was, but this bastard- Shane needed him to know what would happen if Ace really had lost that child. 

"I'm- Shit. What happened? She said she wasn't able-" 

"She got hurt. In your goddamn bombing of her town," Shane snapped. "She doesn't know I'm doing this, but you- you need to know something, man." 

"Damn it," Negan's voice was soft and full of actual grief and for some reason that pissed Shane off further. "I gave them a chance. I gave all of you every damn chance." 

"To what? Live as slaves for you, and in fear? Fuck off, Negan. Here's the thing. I'm coming for you. That woman? She's my world. Has been for… shit. For a long damn time now. And you- you made the mistake of hurting her. So. I'm coming for you. I'm gonna kill you."

"I am- tell her I am sorry. I had plans for that kid. That kid, our kid- it was the future." 

Shane sat straight up, snarling into the radio. "The only future is one where you're dead."

"What are you doing, Dickhead? Rick there with you? What are you doing? My baby is dead, because you and Rick couldn't leave well enough alone. Her baby, the child of the woman you love so much, is dead, because of you two. I mean, she might have lost it some other way. She said she wasn't supposed to be able to have kids, and besides, any one of us can get our ticket punched at any second. But in this case, my baby is dead because of you two. Because you didn't let her stay here, with me, where it's safe. Where it's a Sanctuary. I stop people from dying. I am the answer." 

"Fuck you. I'm coming for you." 

Negan sighed into the radio and Shane slapped Rick's hand away when his brother tried to take it from him. "It may have taken a hard lesson for you to hear it, but you should hear it now. It's time. Do not let any more of your shit decisions cause you to lose anyone else you love. She lost her brother, the Widow lost her husband, Sasha with the balls of steel lost the man she loved and her own life. Now Slugger's lost her baby. That garbage? It sticks with you. Forever. This baby? It's gonna stick with you forever. It's gonna stick with me forever." 

Shane was trying to think of a response that properly conveyed how he felt about that, but Negan wasn't done. 

"You could have just let me save all of you. I mean, that's why I killed your friends in the first place. So you can sit there and say that you're gonna kill me, but you won't. You failed. You failed to keep her safe. You failed as a leader. But most of all, you failed as a father. Cause I know you thought of that baby as yours, Dickhead. And you and Rick? You let it die. Just give up. Give up, because you have already lost." 

Shane closed his eyes, head tipped back against the window, and raised the radio. "I've failed plenty, Negan. I've failed her plenty. But I'm going to kill you. That's a promise." 

Rick snatched the radio from him, and Shane let him. 

She answered the door in that purple shirt she'd stolen from him, grey leg warmers, and a look on her face that said he'd interrupted her just as she really started to lose herself in whatever she was painting today. She held a brush in her hand, but there wasn't much paint streaked on her arms, his shirt, or her bare legs, and only a drip or two on top of her toes to show she'd even been working at all. 

Shane grinned when her eyes went from vaguely annoyed to surprised and confused, taking the fat cigar from his mouth as he leaned in her doorway and winked at her. "Hello, darlin'." 

"Dickhead, what the hell?" 

He laughed and bowed, lifting the fedora he'd tipped down rakishly when he got out of his Jeep and plopping it onto her midnight-sky hair. It was darker blue than when he'd met her, that electric shade that he still compared every wild color to, and shot through with silver highlights like stars in the sky. He loved it, and the jaw-length swing she'd chopped the long fall off to. 

"Aren't you going to invite me in, little lady?" 

"Call me little lady again and I'll earn my other nickname," she said dryly, but she stepped back into her apartment and swung the door open. She headed for the slab she was outlining a piece on, clearly for Maria to sell, and dropped her brush into the cleaner. "Again I ask, though- Dickhead, the fuck?" 

He struck a pose, popping the cigar back between his lips and gripping the lapels of his suit. "Come on, girl. You're the one who said 'take me dancing, Dickhead, come on'." 

She shoved the fedora back to eye him. "That was two weeks ago." 

"This was the earliest night I could get up here. You still wanna go? One night and one night only, baby." 

She rolled her eyes, but she was trying not to smile and Shane knew it. "Fine. All I was going to do tonight was get a little tipsy and paint anyway. I need half an hour. And you're not getting the hat back." 

"It was gonna be yours by the end of the night anyway," Shane said with a shrug. "Get changed. We've got a date with a dance floor!" 

He spun her around and she tossed her head back, laughing in the kind of sheer delight he didn't see from her often. She was always happy, sure, but Shane loved it when she cut loose like this. 

She'd declared that if they were going to dress the part, they had to act it as well, and that meant only drinking things that were around in the twenties. Twenties cocktails, hard liquor brands, and beers were acceptable; anything modern was not. Which was how he found himself sipping something she called 'a sub-par Old Fashioned; I'll make you better ones back at my place.' He decided he liked it already, and if she could do it better, it might be his new favorite drink. 

He'd imagined half an hour meant an hour minimum, like it did with nearly every other woman he'd dated, but true to her word, she was stepping out of her firmly closed bathroom door twenty-seven minutes later in that tiny fringe-covered number she'd made him help her into, heels way too damn high for her to be wearing while drinking, and with her hair a riot of curls. Her lips were heartbreaker-red, her eyes dark and mysterious, and the bruise on her back was almost healed. 

She'd plopped his hat down on all those curls, tipped it over her eye, and asked how she looked. Shane hadn't been lying when he said no one would be looking at anyone else all night. 

He'd been right, and somehow that thought made him angry. Not because every damn man in the joint was waiting for a chance to hit on Slugger, because that was par for the course when they were out together. 

It was because of that idiot she was dating, who had broken up with her two weeks ago and was trying to crawl back into her life, again. Shane didn't understand what she saw in him, and at this point he'd said that so often and so loudly they'd had to reach a bit of an agreement- Shane kept his opinions to himself, and Slugger didn't spend a lot of time talking about the rockstar. 

That seemed fine with them both, since any time they were together, they had far more important things to talk about. 

Tonight, Shane was glad as hell he'd begged, promised, and bribed everyone from Lori to Leon Bassett to get him a Saturday night and full Sunday off to spend in Atlanta, tearing up a dance floor with her. Lori and Rick had teased him about finally asking her out, and for a minute Shane considered what would happen if he did. 

She'd laugh in his face, that's what, and Shane wasn't sure he'd be able to get through fucking asking without cracking up as well. 

He yanked her back into his arms and she hooked a leg up his hip as he dipped her back to the last notes of the song, both of them breathing hard and Slugger grinning like a lunatic. 

"We should learn to tango!" she declared in the lull between songs. 

Shane scoffed and sipped his Old Fashioned. "We who? You think either of us got time for dance lessons?" 

"Awww, it'd be fun," she whined, batting those mile-long lashes at him. "You can do a class a week. Really." 

"I can, can I? On cop hours? From two hours away?" 

She leaned into him, winding her arm around his neck as some sappy slow number started and sipping from the martini glass in her own hand. She licked sugar crystals from her lips and made a pleased noise in the back of her throat and Shane rolled his eyes at the expression on the face of the poor schmuck who'd been staring at her instead of paying attention to his own dance partner. 

Woman didn't even know what she was doing to people, damn it. 

"I mean, that's a problem, sure. Move to Atlanta," she offered brightly, flashing him a wicked grin. "Then you're closer, and we can do this all the time. And learn to tango." 

He snorted again. "Slugger, Atlanta's a shit city to be a cop in." 

"Yeah, that's true," she muttered with a grimace. "Casey arrested me the other day, and he seemed off, so I asked what was going on. Someone on the PD that he knew got busted for corruption. Been stealing product from lock up and selling it on the side." 

"See, now, there's so many things in that sentence that make me think moving here is a bad idea, but the biggest one was 'Casey arrested me the other day'," Shane said dryly. "How's it gonna look if I'm hanging with a known criminal in my own damn jurisdiction?" 

She sighed heavily and widened her eyes as she threaded her fingers in his hair. "But, honey, for you I'd quit my life of crime and play it straight." 

"That right?" he asked with a grin. "Didn't know you liked me that much, darlin'." 

"Oh shut up and dance with me. We should still learn to tango." 

Shane rolled his eyes and spun her around so the fringe on her dress flew up and she let out that delighted peal of laughter again.


	65. Lie #65: "I Got My Big Brother Killed." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> ANGST

"No." 

"Why the fuck not?" you demanded, furious. 

Your brother didn't bother to spare a look your way. "Macho sexist bullshit, that's why not." 

You snarled, tossing your hands up and getting ready to hit him with a thousand and one reasons why that wouldn't work, probably with a 'Darlene' or two thrown in for good measure, but Carl stopped you. 

"Come on, Aunt Ace. You really think any of us would be ok with you going in there? For one, you're pregnant. For two, you've got an open wound on your side. If swamp water gets in that, you could get sick." 

As that last bit was entirely too reasonable, and you were pointedly not thinking about the first bit right now, you shut your mouth firmly and settled for flipping them both off. Daryl snorted and Carl sighed. "Mature," he informed you. "Judy's watching, you know." 

"Good," you muttered. "Maybe she'll learn how to deal with macho sexist older brothers." 

"So ya admit I'm older?" 

You groaned and walked away amid muted laughter. 

Walkers rose out of the swamp water the minute your people approached, and you cuddled Judy closer and tried not to be afraid. "Jesus, was there a battle here or something?" you mumbled. "Why are there so many of them?" 

"Negan lost a few people here. Others tried to run; didn't make it. Herd have stumbled in and gotten sunk," D answered. 

You hadn't heard him come up, and you didn't look away from where your brother and Siddiq were faced with twenty heads rising from the still surface. How many more were underwater, waiting to grab an ankle or take a chunk out of someone's thigh? You shivered, and Judy squirmed in your arms. 

Tobin appeared on your other side with a sippy cup of water. "Want me to take her?" 

Judy reached for Tobin and the water and you passed her over. As much as you wanted to be cuddling Shane's little girl, you were too on edge to be a good surrogate parent right now, and you knew it. 

You chewed on your thumbnail and wished Shane were here. On the other hand, that would mean he was out there in that swamp too, with Darrie and Carl and Siddiq and Rosita, and you absolutely did not want another person you loved out in that mess. "There's so many of them. This might have been a shitty idea after all, D." 

"Maybe. No worse than some of the other paths, honestly. A patrol will take all of you down, no question. Even the kid and the little one," Dwight said softly. "Don't want to scare you, but it's true." 

"Negan doesn't kill kids," you disagreed. 

"Negan doesn't. Patrols might. Things happen, out here." 

You bit your lip when Darrie did something stupid, but he got away with it so you didn't cuss him out. "Things happen in there, too. Things happen even with good people. Tara's a good person. She's been through hell." 

"I know," he agreed. "It's fine. I deserve it." 

"If you do, so do I." 

"You didn't kill anyone, Ace. You didn't torture anyone, trying to break them. We're not the same." Dwight was looking at you closely, but you were steadfastly ignoring him. "You tried to save a life. Many lives. I've taken them." 

"You think I haven't?" you said dryly. 

"How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed? Why?" Dwight fired at you. 

You flipped him off and didn't respond, since you didn't know the answers. Both of you watched the slow progress in the swamp, and you sighed. "D, why won't you let me help?" 

"Because I don't deserve it." 

"Bullshit," you fired back. "That's why you won't help yourself. But why won't you let me help?" 

"I killed your brother." 

Your eyes shot from Darrie- very much alive- to Dwight. "What the fuck?" 

He looked down at the ground, hand clamped over his injured arm. "I killed your brother."

"I'm going to need a hell of a lot more information than that, since my brother is currently alive and stabbing waterlogged dead bastards in that swamp. You double cross us after all, Dwight? Cause I'll kill you myself if you did, right here and now. This is my fucking family," you hissed, stepping close to him as your hand curled on your knife. 

He met your eyes sadly. "I didn't betray you. I killed Merle." 

"Merle died of his injuries." You delivered it flatly, devoid of emotion. You knew. You'd been there, in the doctor's rooms, and he'd told you. Merle had died of the infection that had been eating him alive; died because that fucking Dr. Carson hadn't treated him when you'd come to him for help the first time. You knew. 

"That's what the doctor told you, isn't it? That's what we agreed," Dwight said softly. "He asked me to, Ace. Your brother, he- he asked me to kill him. He was real serious about it too. Said if I said no, he'd find a way to do it himself, and that would make it worse for you." 

You stared at him without really seeing him, because all you could see was your brother's face- pale and sweating, laughing and high, serious and stoic, clenched with pain and relaxed with laugher. Merle holding Judy, Merle at the foot of your hospital bed, Merle teasing you and Shane and Daryl in your little house in Alexandria. Merle handing you your first sketchbook, trouble in his eyes. 

"Why?" you whispered. "Why?" 

"Because of what you did. It was to keep you from doin' exactly what you did. To keep you from sacrificing yourself. He knew what you'd done, and he figured if he was gone, you'd be able to tell Negan to fuck off, and fight your way out." Dwight's voice was full of pity and sorrow, and your temper flashed and snarled. 

You grabbed his arm, right above the graze, and squeezed. "Why the fuck did you agree to that, you asshole? Just waiting for the opportunity to take one of us out? Daryl and I tried to help you! You and Sherry," you spat in a hiss. 

"He was doing what I should have done. He was going to do it, Ace. He'd asked the doc and Carson said no. I was his other choice, and if I refused, he was going to find a way. He'd already stolen a scalpel. You know how long it takes someone to bleed out with a scalpel? It would have been painful and slow. I made it fast and easy," Dwight whispered. If your grip on his arm hurt, he didn't show it in his voice. "I broke his neck. He was thinking about you. You and your brother. He told me some of what happened, with your ex from before all this. He knew how it would be for you. He didn't want you to go through that. And he knew how he would be. The doc had him on painkillers. Good stuff, strong stuff. He didn't want to put you through that, either." 

You let go of D abruptly and turned away, staring back out over the swamp. You searched out Darrie and Carl, checking to make sure they were fine, and let was he was saying sink in. 

It didn't make sense. It couldn't be real. 

Except… 

Except it was exactly like Merle. It was exactly like the brother you'd grown up with, who'd taken hit after hit for you and Darrie. Who'd risked injury to keep you safe, who'd left under the misguided impression it would keep you safe, who'd ended up an addict in a gang all because he was trying his hardest to keep you and Daryl safe. 

Dwight wasn't lying. Merle would have died rather than become an addict again, and he would have done anything, anything at all to protect you. 

It was your fault he was dead. Yours, and yours alone. 

"It's my fault," you whispered. "I got him killed. I got my big brother killed." 

"No," D snapped. "No, you didn't. He made a choice, Ace. He made a choice, and it was the right one. I almost made the same choice, but I couldn't go through with it, and that made everything worse. For Sherry, for myself, for you and so many others. That's why I couldn't turn him down. He made the right choice, the one I should have made."

"I hate to break up whatever argument you two are having, but I need Dwight to help me with those two dead bitches," Tara interrupted, not sounding sorry at all. She lobbed a knife so it landed at his feet and waited impatiently. 

Your eyes narrowed on her as Dwight sighed and picked the knife up. "What are you doing?" 

"Handling an safety issue," she answered, face set but tone innocent. "Come on." 

You glanced back at Judy, drawing in the dirt with Tobin. You stared across the swamp toward your brother and Carl, something irrational saying that if you didn't keep an eye on them, they'd disappear, like Merle had. 

But Tara wasn't right, and you couldn't let her kill D for no real reason. 

"Damn it," you muttered, and followed the two of them. 

Tara had him at gunpoint. 

Dwight had a walker at his feet, the knife on the ground, his hand up, and a calm, resigned expression. He didn't even act like he saw you as you slipped through the trees behind Tara, but you were pissed. Dear god, you were pissed. 

"You should have stayed with the Saviors," Tara hissed. 

"I hate 'em. I hate Negan." 

Tara's voice was stone cold. "I don't care. You don't get to swtich sides and make it ok." 

"Yeah? Should I have stayed with the them, too?" you asked. 

Dwight and Tara didn't look away from each other. "Stay outta this, Ace," D warned you. 

"Fuck you, D," you fired back pleasantly. "Tara. Put the damn gun down." 

"He killed Denise." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "He did. And tortured Darrie. Framed a doctor and got him killed. To be fair, I helped with that. Held me at gunpoint to get my brother's bike. Probably a hell of a lot more that I don't even know about. But killing him now, like this? He's fucking trying to surrender, Tara. What's that gonna do?" 

You saw it in her eyes, and you dashed for her even as she responded. "It's gonna make me feel a hell of a lot better." 

She got the shot off, but you'd slammed her arm aside before it fired. You had surprise on your side, because she didn't think you'd really come after her. But you didn't give a single damn right now, and you were pissed. 

Will always said you were missing the Dixon temper. Mal said you had too damn much of it. 

You drove your elbow into her stomach and wrestled the gun from her hand, spinning and glaring at her as your last bit of control snapped. "You fucking idiot!" you yelled. "Goddamn it, Tara! What the fuck is wrong with you? Don't you get that if you do this, we're no goddamn better than Negan? Jesus fucking Christ!" 

"He's getting away!" Tara yelled back. "He ran!" 

"You fucking shot at him!" 

She scoffed, tossed her hands up, and shook her head. "Fine. Keep my gun. I'll find another way. Don't follow us, Ace." 

"Don't- Tara, don't- Damn it," you finished in a deadpan as she took off around you. "Damn it."

"I knew it was gonna happen," D said softly. "I just wanted to help you win first." 

You grabbed them both and hauled them into the bushes. "Shut up," you hissed when Tara's mouth opened. "Shut up, shut up!" 

"Just sayin', they'd be idiots to risk it is all." 

You stared daggers into the back of Tara's skull as she tried to find the patrol you'd heard. See? This is what you got for being a goddamn idiot, you wanted to hiss at her. A patrol, and all of your people not that far away. Fucking idiot. 

"At least we can say we checked," a second voice said coolly. 

"Swamp's that way. We can cut through there." 

Fucking hell. Tara's eyes went wide, her head whipping to yours, and you gave her a 'fucking see?' expression that probably wasn't entirely helpful. Then D touched your arm. 

"I've got this," he whispered. 

You shook your head, grabbing at his arm. "D, no. They'll-" 

"It's ok, Ace." He smiled at you, then stumbled through the bushes, hand raised. "Hey." 

"Dwight?" one of the voices asked. "What the hell happened to you? We thought you were dead."

"It was an ambush. They shot us to hell, but I got away," Dwight answered, sounding exhausted and out of breath. "Spent the whole night hiding. You know, running from the dead ones. Trying to make it back. What happened to Laura? I thought she might have made it out, too." 

The Saviors shook their heads, and you relaxed slightly. If Laura hadn't made it back, D was safe- for now. They wouldn't know he'd turned on them, and they'd take him back. You dropped the gun you'd had trained on the leader when D started spinning some bullshit about where he'd go if he was an Alexandrian, grabbing a rifle from one of them and starting back the way they'd come.

"Yeah, yeah. Lead the way, D." The man's voice was faint, and your jaw tightened as he continued. "Barely recognized you without your vest." 

Darrie's vest, fucker, you thought his way. Shit, you hoped D would be ok. You had so many more questions for him. 

Merle. It stabbed into you again, and you whirled on Tara when the Saviors were out of sight, grief and rage making you bitchy as hell. You shoved her gun into your waistband pointedly, and she watched you do it. 

"I was wrong," she said softly. "He just lead them away. I thought-" 

"You didn't think," you hissed. "He just damned himself! If Laura made it, D's dead, you understand? And in a horrible, horrible way. You ever seen someone die in a furnace? I have. Goddamn it, Tara! We could have used him!" 

"Why do you like him so much anyway? He's one of them." 

You started back toward the others, not trusting yourself to keep talking to her without walking. You might start swinging instead. "I don't like him. He got me out. His wife, Sherry- she kept all of Negan's wives safe. She got my brother out. Yeah, they're not good guys. But honestly, Tara. Are we?" 

She didn't say anything to that, and you stalked through the trees to go make sure the only brother you had left was still fucking alive without you to keep an eye on him.


	66. Lie #66: "Shitty Friend I Am, Don't Even Know Their Names."- Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> discussion of past miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> possible miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> infertility  
> past domestic violence/abuse

Shane slammed the door to the van and went around to the back to unload what they'd brought from Alexandria. He hadn't responded to any of Rick's attempts to draw him into conversation, because honestly? He didn't want to hear it. He just didn't. 

He was going to kill Negan, and Rick could kiss his ass with any prior claim bullshit. That bastard was Shane's. 

"Bout time ya showed up." 

Shane shot Daryl a glare that softened as soon as he saw his baby girl in Daryl's arms. "Hey, darlin'," he said, reaching for her. 

"Shit, ya pig bastard, ya got the wrong man. Ya wife's over there, talkin' to Maggie." 

Shane rubbed noses with Judy, who giggled at him. "Funny. Uncle Darrie thinks he's funny." 

"Watch it, Dickhead," Daryl muttered. 

Shane wasn't feeling a fistfight right now, so he decided to pretend he didn't hear that. Judy leaned on his shoulder and Shane rubbed his little girl's back as he turned serious. "How'd it go? Getting here?" 

"Sucked ass. Went through a swamp. Fucking Dwight ran back to the Saviors, though Tara an' Ace say he saved us. Bastard," Daryl muttered. "Anyway, got here fine. No injuries or nothin'. Just tired people." 

"How long you been here?" Shane asked, ignoring the news about Dwight because he honestly didn't care. 

Daryl grimaced. "Like two hours, maybe, man. Not long. Took awhile, and we's dodging patrols. Made Ace take a nap, but she's probably in Jesus' shower at this point. Ninja told us to use it soon's we showed up." 

Shane nodded and pretended to munch Judy's fingers when she shoved them in his face and babbled something at him. He thought he heard 'Ace' in there somewhere, but maybe that was just wistful thinking on his part. 

Daryl smiled at her and tugged lightly on some of her curls. "Ya talkin' about ya step-mama, Lil Ass-kicker? She's aight. But Daddy Shane there needs to get her to go see the damn doctor. Right, man?" 

"Yeah," Shane said softly. "Thanks for getting them here." 

"Fuck off with that. Go make my sis get checked out." Daryl plucked Judy from his arms, then slapped him on the back. "And man? If…" 

Shane met his eyes steadily, Ace's eyes in her brother's face. "Yeah. I'll take care of her, either way."

Daryl nodded and wandered over to Rick. 

Shane didn't hear a shower when he opened the trailer door. He did find himself looking at the barrel of Ace's gun, and he held up his hands and grinned at her. "I surrender." 

"Dickhead," she breathed, dropping the gun onto the bed and shoving a hand through her damp hair. "Shit. Don't sneak up on me like that." 

"I opened the door, Slugger," he said dryly. "I think you needed more sleep." 

"I didn’t get any," she said with a grimace. "I tried, but- Shane. Are we-" 

She didn't finish, cutting off an biting her lip as she stared down at her feet, and Shane shoved his hands in his pockets as a wave of awkward washed over him. He took a step closer and she didn't back away, but he knew she knew he'd done it. 

So he did it again. And again. 

And when he was right there, close enough to touch her, he did. He traced the backs of his fingers down the curve of her cheek, and her eyes closed and her lips parted on a ragged breath. "Slugger. Sweetheart. That's always been up to you." 

She shook her head, leaning into his hand. "Shane, I-"

"Shhh. You love me, sweetheart?" he whispered, running his other hand down her arm and pulling her toward him. 

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Always have. You know that." 

"Yeah," he agreed. "You done bein' stubborn?" 

That startled a laugh out of her and she rolled her eyes. "Probably not." 

"Wouldn't know what to do if you were. Damn Dixon," he muttered, smiling down into her upturned face. "Ace. B. Nothing's changed to me. I love the shit out of you. I'm right here." 

"I miss you. And I'm scared," she whispered. "I thought- I thought there was no way. I mean, it's- it's Negan's baby. How the hell could you want me after that?" 

"Because I want you no matter what. And because I know you well enough to know you didn't have a choice." 

She grimaced, but Shane leaned his forehead to hers and brushed a kiss to her lips. "Stop, Slugger. I guess I should say I know you well enough to know that was your only choice, and for a damn good reason. I love you." 

She melted into him. "I love you, Shane. God. I love you. Hold me." 

"Thank god." He pulled her down on the ninja's bed with him, gathering her as close as he could, and closed his eyes as he buried his face in her hair. Thank god. 

Shane slammed through the front doors of Atlanta PD, ignoring a few hails and a questioning look, and went straight for the desk. "I need to see Casey. Now." 

"And, uh, who are you?" the rookie assigned to desk duty stammered, looking fucking terrified. Normally Shane would have had sympathy for the kid- he was guessing it was his first week as an official officer- but not tonight. 

He snarled, fully prepared to bypass the young dumbass and head for the bullpen himself, when the desk sergeant appeared from the back. "Walsh. Your victim ok?" 

That certainly didn't help Shane's mood, because it wasn't a victim. It was Slugger, goddamn it, and why was no on else understanding the severity of the goddamn situation? But Sergeant Walters was a good cop and a good man, and took care of Slugger when she got busted, so Shane kept as firm a grip on his boiling temper as he could and spoke through his clenched jaw. "She's at the hospital. I need to see Casey." 

"Yeah, yeah, head on back. Kid, this is Officer Walsh, King County Sheriff. He's good to come and go," Walters informed the rookie, who nodded and stared at Shane like he was trying to memorize Shane's face. 

Shane left him there, gave Walters a nod of thanks, and made his way to Casey's shared desk. He found Ace's favorite arresting officer hunched over a mountain of paperwork, and he tossed himself down into the chair across from him and drummed his fingers on the table. Casey jerked in surprise, then settled down immediately and smiled. He seemed happy to get a break, and Shane hated to make the man's day worse. 

"Walsh! This is a surprise," Casey said brightly. He spun a pen in his fingers, but the smile drained off his face as he studied Shane. "And from the looks of it, not a good one."

Shane sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, his leg bouncing because he couldn't stay still. He was too damn angry and worried for her. "We need to start some paperwork, man." 

"For what?" 

"He hit her. She's- she's getting a goddamn head scan," Shane snarled. "She was bleedin' on the fucking ground, and he just left! Who the hell does that, man?" 

Casey leaned over his desk and grabbed at Shane's arm as he gestured wildly. "Walsh. Calm the fuck down. You talking about Dixon? Dixon's getting a head scan?" 

"Of course I'm talking about Slugger; why the fuck else would I be in Atlanta?" he snapped. "If it was King County, I'd have his head on a plate for her already, but I ain't got jurisdiction here, so I need your help!" 

"Ok, come on, man. You know you can't talk like that around here. What are you trying to do?" 

Shane forced himself to take a breath, pressing his hands to his eyes again. "I need to start assault charges. And a restraining order."

Casey was silent for a minute. "She ok?" 

Shane snorted. "I don't know yet. She's awake, so that's good. Stitches in her forehead. Fuckin' bruise on her cheek looks like a goddamn handprint. And they took her for a scan. That's all they'll tell me, 'cause I'm not family. Shit- you know how to get ahold of her brothers? Shitty friend I am, don't even know their names." 

"I can find the one that gets arrested all the time, but it'd be illegal. And you don't want him involved anyway," Casey warned. "Alright. Now that you're not vibrating, you know I can't start any of that for you. Come on, and I'll introduce you to who can." 

Shane sighed and shoved his hand through his hair, then climbed to his feet wearily. Casey rounded the desk, but instead of heading further into the PD building, he set a hand on Shane's shoulder. 

"She's tough," Casey said softly. "She's gonna be ok. And whoever did it? We'll nail him to the wall. We all like her. Despite her frequent visits."

Shane swallowed hard and nodded. 

He held her for a long time, but it wasn't long enough. And as much as he wanted to stay right there, her head on his chest and her toes hooked under his knee, there was something they needed to do, and it was damn important. 

"Slugger," he whispered. "Sweetheart." 

"I know," she whispered back. "Shane, I'm sorry. I'm sorry if this hurts you, but- I want this baby. I want it so bad, and if- if-" 

He tightened his grip on her. "Hush. You think I don't know that? I know you. No matter what, I got you. I promise." 

"I'm so scared, hero. I wasn't, before. I knew it was over and I was relieved and guilty, but mostly relieved, at first. Then after, when I couldn't have any- I told myself I didn't care. I've been telling myself that for years. But I want them. Lori- seeing Lori carry Judy? It killed me," she said softly, like she was confessing some dark secret. "I wanted your baby, Shane. Not Negan's. But-" 

"I know," he said simply. "I love you." 

Her hand found his and gripped tight. "Dickhead." 

"I know," he repeated. "But we have to go find out, sweetheart." 

She nodded, and shoved to her feet in one motion. She swiped tears from under her eyes as Shane rose, and fixed a shaky smile on. "Let's go." 

He nodded to Daryl and Rick as they made their way to the medical trailer, Ace's hand clenched in his so tight Shane wondered if she was hurting herself. But he looked at her and she seemed perfectly calm. Perfectly normal Ace, and if he hadn't known her as well as he did, he never would have picked up on the tension in her shoulders, the tightness in her eyes, the slightly off shape of her smile. 

She was damn good at faking it, his Slugger, and it hurt him to see her doing it again. She hadn't been, not for a long time. She'd learned to be open, and now here she was hiding everything behind that bartender's smile. 

But not, at least, from him. The grip on his hand never wavered, and he caught the way Daryl watched her with narrowed eyes and wondered if Dixon saw through her façade as well as Shane did. He rather suspected her twin did. 

She didn't hesitate at the door like Shane would have. She walked right up, not change in stride, and opened the door like she lived there. 

Inside, Siddiq followed an older woman, someone Shane had never seen before. He wondered if it was the Kingdom's doctor. 

Carol had been here when he arrived, along with all of what remained of the Kingdom. Seemed the Saviors had come after everyone in the same night, and found everyone. Maggie and Hilltop they'd threatened. Taken all of their guns- again- and left Maggie with Jerry, an ultimatum, and a wooden box. 

Maggie'd filled the box with one of her prisoners- dead- and sent it back. Shane had to admire the woman's stone-cold streak, but he wasn't sure what that would mean in the long run. 

The Kingdom they'd wanted to take over. Residents had been rounded up, told they worked for the Saviors directly now, and told to bring out their king or they'd start dying. The king had come out, right enough, and Carol had snuck in and teamed up with Ezekiel and Morgan to free everyone and wreck the joint- and the Saviors. 

So now Hilltop hosted three communities of people, and Shane had questions about things like food and water, the kind of pressing concerns that had been plaguing him since the beginning. But at least, he thought as Ace studied the woman, they had a doctor. 

Ace turned away from her and smiled at Siddiq. "I'd like to take you up on that exam offer, if you don't mind." 

Siddiq's face remained perfectly composed as he nodded. 

He poked and prodded for a bit, including pulling off the bandage he'd done in the sewer tunnels and cleaning the shrapnel cut on her side better. He declared that it would heal fine without stitches and covered it back up, then went back to poking at Ace's still-flat stomach. 

Shane tried to picture her all rounded out like Lori, and he couldn't. But he wanted to see it, wanted to see it desperately, and he forced himself to leave that thought behind. He couldn't afford to be attached; not yet. Because if she'd lost it… 

He'd take care of her. Then he'd rant to Rick later about how goddamn unfair her world was. Then he'd kill Negan. 

Yeah, he liked that plan, he thought as he shoved a hand through his hair and watched Siddiq grab a tube of something clear and squirt some on her stomach. His lip curled and he caught her laugh. 

Her hand was still locked on his, and she reached over and patted his arm. "It's for the sonogram. I don't know what exactly it does, but it helps." 

"Still seems gross," Shane muttered. 

"Only if you make it dirty, Dickhead." 

He wasn't sure, but he thought Siddiq might have smiled at that one. When he looked up at Ace, wand thing in hand, his expression was professional. "You understand, Miss Ace, I am not an obstetrician. I'm still a resident, so I'm not even a full doctor." 

"I have faith in you," she said softly, with a tiny smile Shane knew was real. 

Siddiq's smile back said that meant something to him, and Shane wasn't sure why. It didn't matter though, because he flipped some kind of switch and smeared the goop all around Ace's stomach with the wand, and her eyes closed and her jaw set. Shane switched which hand he held hers in and ran his fingers through her hair, leaning close to whisper in her ear. 

"I've got you, Slugger. Whatever happens, I've got you. I'm right here." 

She turned and pressed her forehead to his, and Shane stared at her closed eyes from close up as he waited for the verdict. 

"How far along did you say you thought you were?" Siddiq asked, tone thoughtful and unreadable. 

Both Shane and Ace turned to frown at him, because what kind of question was that? Ace shrugged, licking her lips and managing to answer on the second try. Siddiq didn't notice, because he was staring at the screen, turned so neither of them could see, and moving the little wand around still. 

"I don't know, um- like a month? I think?" Ace said, eyeing Shane with more confusion than worry now. 

Shane smiled and rubbed the backs of his fingers on her cheek, because he sure as hell didn't know what the man was doing either. He wondered how many of their little family would be gathered outside when they left here, and he wondered if he'd be stepping out first to tell them all to back the fuck off and give her some room. 

He wished the man would just tell them if the baby was ok, damn it. 

Siddiq nodded, leaned up, and pressed some buttons on the machine, his face unreadable.


	67. Lie #67: "Problem Fixed Itself, And I Won't Be Stupid Again." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> mentions of past child abuse

Your heart was pounding like you'd been running from walkers, or like you'd pissed Will off somehow. Siddiq stared at the screen he wouldn't show you and his face was completely blank. Shane's fingers against your cheek were the only things keeping you from losing your shit entirely, and you wondered distantly if you were hurting the hand you had clenched in your own.

Then Siddiq leaned forward and punched some buttons on the machine before looking up at you with serious eyes. "Miss Dixon, your babies are in good health. But-" 

"But? But what?" you snapped. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing is wrong, Ace. Take a deep breath for me," Siddiq instructed. He turned the screen as Shane wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you back against him. "You are two months and eleven days pregnant. Both babies are measuring fine, and everything looks good- as best as I can tell. Remember, I'm not an expert. Would you like to hear their heartbeats?" 

"What?" you asked faintly as blood pounded in your ears. "What?" 

The guidance councilor tried to talk to you. "Miss Dixon-" 

"I'm fine," you told her flatly. "I got knocked up in a night of stupid. Now I'm not knocked up anymore. Problem fixed itself, and I won't be stupid again." 

"Miss Dixon, a teen pregnancy alone is cause for concern, but the loss is also a traumatic experience, and-" 

You rose, slinging your backpack up to your shoulder and looking somewhere just over her head. She had some stupid inspirational posters on either side of her framed diploma, and you couldn't have cared less about any of it. The diploma or the inspiration. "I've had plenty of traumatic experiences, Mrs. Hastings. I can handle it. We done here?" 

She sighed and tried one more time. "If you need to talk, Miss Dixon-"

"I'll talk to my brothers," you snapped, and slammed the door on your way out.

"That can't be. It can't be right," you said faintly. "I can't be two months in. I was only with Negan for a little over two weeks, and I've only been away for two as well. Not even, honestly. So there's no way-"

"Slugger." 

Shane's voice was so calm. He was so calm, and you looked at him, your mind wild and your lungs aching, and he was smiling, tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. "Oh my god," you whispered. "Dickhead. Oh my god." 

He cupped your cheek in his hand and nodded. "That's our baby, Slugger. Ours. Not Negan's." 

"I think I'm going to pass out," you informed him. 

"Babies." 

Oh yeah. Siddiq had said- wait. What? You saw a very similar thought process in Shane's eyes, and you turned together to the faintly smiling man still holding a wand in goo on your stomach. "What?" 

He looked highly amused, and tapped the screen. "Babies. Twins." 

"What? Are- are you sure?" Shane sounded positively floored and you honest to god did not blame him. You weren't sure you could have spoken at all, so Dickhead was already doing better than you were. 

Siddiq nodded and started pointing to various things on the weird, blurry screen, but you weren't really listening. You couldn't. He was sure, and that was enough for you. 

"Twins run in the family," you murmured when there was a pause. "Obviously." 

"Holy shit," Shane said. "Jesus, Slugger. We're having twins."

You promptly burst into tears. 

"Yeah, I was waiting for that," Shane mumbled, gathering you to him as he climbed up into the bed with you. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it all out." 

Siddiq had slipped out at some point while you sobbed your eyes out. Spent for the moment, though you suspected hormones would do something to fucking change that, you curled against Shane and listened to his heartbeat in your ear and your babies' heartbeats on the machine. Shane had one hand in your hair and the other wrapped around yours over the wand, moving it around slightly to watch the little blobs on the monitor that were your babies. 

Babies, plural. Yours, tiny pieces of you and him. 

Nothing of Negan anywhere, you thought savagely. Just you and Shane. 

He wouldn't touch them, ever. He'd have no part of these tiny miracles. 

But Shane would. Shane with his fingers moving gently in your hair, his eyes wet and almost awed as he watched them- Shane who had loved them already, before he knew they were them and they were his. He would watch them grow. He would hold them when they cried and hold them when they laughed; he would form and shape them and turn them into amazing people like he was. He would keep them safe and keep them wild, and probably give you ten thousand heart attacks letting them do things you didn't approve of. 

And they would never, not for a single moment, be afraid of him. They'd grow up so different from you, you promised them. They'd never have to wonder what would be waiting for them at home. They wouldn't have scars, inside or out, from either of you. They wouldn't know what it felt like to have a hand raised to them in violence, not from you or from Shane or from anyone else, not while you watched over them. You'd protect them like Merle had protected you, only better because there wouldn't be a monster waiting for them at home. Just love. Just this.

"Slugger," Shane whispered. "What are you thinking about, sweetheart?"

You swallowed hard and looked up at him, shaking your head helplessly. "I don't even know. Shane. We- they- Shane." 

He laughed, and you heard the tears in it. "Yeah, I know. Twins, huh? Gonna be trouble, like their mom and their uncle." 

"Of course they are," you muttered. "They're Dixons." 

"Walshes, too. Good god, what have we done?" 

That had you laughing, burying your face in his shoulder and shaking from it. He laughed as well, and the machine made strange noises as it tried to keep detecting their heartbeats through your slightly hysterical giggling. 

When you finally had it together, Shane sighed and kissed your head. "We need to get out there, baby. You ready?" 

"Just a minute more," you whispered, watching the screen again. "Please?" 

Shane's arm around you tightened. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah." 

You weren't expecting all of them to be hovering outside the trailer. You should have, knowing this strange little family as well as you did, but it took you by surprise as you blinked in the sunlight. 

Rick held Judy in one arm and Michonne's hand in his. Maggie and Jesus were talking quietly, Maggie absently rubbing her stomach where she was just barely starting to show. Starvation diet couldn't be good for her baby, you thought, frowning in worry and remembering Lori. Tara and Carol and Ezekiel stood together, and even Morgan had appeared, staring at the ground and clinging to his stick. Jerry hovered behind Ezekiel, and Rosita leaned on a building with Carl. 

Darrie had been on the steps, and as soon as the door opened he'd scrambled to his feet. Shane's hand rested warm on your back as you stepped out into the sun and stared at your whole absurd crew. You couldn't- 

You focused on your twin, his eyes anxious behind hair that truly, desperately needed to be cut. He was chewing on his thumb and you licked your lips, tearing up as you tried to get words out. 

He nodded once, his face shutting down as he looked away. 

"Darrie. Not Negan's. Shane's. They're twins and they're Shane's," you blurted, practically falling down the stairs to throw yourself at him. 

He caught you, arm wrapping around you in an automatic hug, as you started bawling again. You heard his whispered "what the fuck?" but you were crying too hard to answer him. Fucking hormones.

Shane's dry, almost smug response had you half-laughing as you cried. "Your sister's having twins, and they're mine. Not that bastard's. Mine." 

Pandemonium raged, and you kept your face tucked into your brother's shoulder because you honestly weren't sure you could handle everyone else just yet. Darrie let out a breath you felt more than heard, both arms around you now as he held on tight. 

"Shit, sis," he whispered. "Didn't do it halfway, did ya? Gonna prove a whole ass hospital wrong, might as well do it with twins." 

That was enough to turn the tears into full-on laughter, and you pushed off his shoulder to roll your eyes. He was smiling, and so were you. So was everyone, really, you thought, leaning your cheek on his shoulder again to watch the rest of the family losing their shit. Maggie and Michonne were hugging. Jesus was beaming, talking to Rosita. Carl and Rick and Judy were gathered around Shane, Carl with his uncle's arm tossed casually around his shoulders, Judy in Carl's arms, and Rick slapped Shane on the back as you watched. 

Dickhead turned and his eyes met yours as Carol skipped the knot around Shane to come hug you tight. 

The celebration didn't last long, of course. All of you knew the Saviors would be coming, and soon. The transition to planning mode was easy enough with all the relevant players gathered together, and you plotted out a three-phase plan from Shane's lap, everyone gathered in what had been Gregory's office and was now officially Maggie's. 

With inhabitants of two extra communities now within the walls, Hilltop's resources were stretched to breaking- especially since the Kingdom was the Hilltop's main source of food trade. Food was the big concern, but so were sleeping and housing arrangements and, well, every damn thing else. 

Talk stretched on for a few hours, but the eventual decision was that nothing would happen until the next day, and you were all as prepared as you could be. Jesus had willingly turned over his trailer to you, Shane, and Daryl, since he and Maggie had been sleeping in the office more often than not anyway. You didn't like Maggie being on a couch, but she said it felt better on her back than the bed did. Poor woman was having back pain already, and you figured she was in for a rough ride over the next five months. 

Darrie opted to wander around for a few hours and check on things- his words- and you considered telling him you were too damn tired to get up to anything with Shane anyway, but he was gone before Shane had scooped you up and started for the door. He carried you all the way to the trailer, and after a token protest you rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. You really were exhausted. 

And god, it felt good to be back in his arms. 

You curled against him as soon as he crawled into the bed with you, your head on his chest and worming your toes under his knee, and he laughed softly as he found your hand with his. "I missed you," he whispered into your hair. "Don't think I've slept right since- since." 

You tightened your fingers on his. "I'm sorry." 

"Shut up."

"First of all, make me, and secondly-" You didn't get any further than that, because Shane tipped your head back with his hand in your hair and found your mouth with his. You made an annoyed noise in the back of your throat, but you were kissing him back just as hard, so you didn't think it was very effective at expressing your displeasure.

When he let you come up for air, you were half-under him, his fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, and both of you were breathing hard. "What the hell, Dickhead?" 

"You said 'make me'," he said casually, leaning his forehead to yours. "I did." 

You wanted to be irritated. Really, you did. But… You laughed helplessly instead. "I love you." 

He kissed you again, hungrier this time, urgent as his fingers gripping your hip. You responded in kind, hand tangled in his hair and the other tugging on his shirt to bring him closer to you as you wrapped a leg around his hip in a need to have him as close as physically possible. 

It wasn't enough. 

His tongue swept yours and he clearly felt the same way, rolling you both so you lay pressed to his chest and wrapping both arms around you tight. You had his face in your hands, and you thought maybe you were crying while you kissed him, but you didn't know and honestly you didn't care. You were home. 

You were thousands of miles away from Atlanta; a million years older than the woman who'd thought she'd seen it all; more scarred and broken than you'd been then- but you were wrapped up in Dickhead's arms, and you were home. 

You mumbled something against his lips, you didn't know what, and he slid his hands under your shirt, to dance over your skin. You shivered at his touch and he froze. 

He disengaged his lips from yours despite your protests and swept your hair from your face. "Slugger. You ok? You sure about this?" 

"Goddamn it, hero," you mumbled. "Haven't you figured out by now that I'm always sure about this with you?" 

"I just- Negan-" 

You flinched a little. "Let's leave that bastard out of this. Shane. We're having twins. You and me. I missed you. Keep kissing me. Please?" 

He stroked your cheek and you leaned into his hand. "Alright. But we're gonna talk about it. Later." 

"Later," you agreed. He used his hand on your cheek to guide your lips to his again, and you fell into him willingly, hungrily. 

It wasn't long before you were skin to skin, Shane's hands gliding along your body and his forehead against your chest. You trailed your fingers over his shoulders, his neck, through his hair, down his arms as he pulled you closer and you both shuddered. You framed his face with your hands, tipping his head back as you teetered on the edge, and he stared into your eyes and whispered "Slugger" as you fell. 

You collapsed into him, and yeah. This was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I forgiven now?


	68. Lie #68: "It's Shit And We Both Know It." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> drinking and questionable decision making

The airhorn split the peaceful quiet of Hilltop and you froze, mid-sentence to Judy. "Well," you said softly. 

She held you and Shane's hands in each other hers, and the three of you had been wandering around Hilltop talking- to her, to each other, to whoever came up. It was a little family time, and with the airhorn, it was over. Shane scooped Judy up, kissed her nose, and tickled her stomach, and she giggled. 

"Be good for Mama Ace, ok?" he told her. "And when you're inside. Play with Gracie and stay quiet." 

She nodded and turned, reaching for you, and you scooped her from Shane's arms and settled her on your hip, where she promptly started playing with your hair. "Be careful?" you said softly to Shane. 

He cupped your cheek in his hand and shrugged. "Naw. I was gonna do something reckless and stupid." 

"You are something reckless and stupid," you fired back instantly, the retort as automatic as breathing. 

Shane grinned, kissed you gently, and whispered in your ear. "Well, maybe you can just do me then." 

You were laughing as he headed for the wall, calling a goodbye and a love you over her shoulder to 'his girls.' You yelled it back, ignoring the churning in your stomach that had nothing to do with the babies this time and everything to do with him going one direction and you going another. 

But Shane- and every-freaking-body else- had been right about this one. This time, you were hanging back. Still part of the action, because you couldn't let Negan attack yet another community and not be part of stopping him, but not down in the melee. You were going to be with Maggie, and then you were manning a rifle for phase three. 

You'd proven Will wrong since the world ended. You'd turned into a decent shot after all. 

You scanned the Hilltop on the steps of Barrington House, all the residents moving briskly as they got ready for what was coming. You had a plan, you thought, trying to settle your nerves. You could do this, all of you, together. 

Maggie stepped out beside you and checked the lamp. "Ready?" 

"Ready," you agreed softly. 

The prisoners had been brought to Barrington House and were being held under guard in Maggie's office. You'd need them, later. You helped put the barricade up on the portico, watched the wall anxiously, and smiled when you saw Siddiq in a bulletproof vest stashing a medical kit behind one of the trailers. 

The sun went down slowly and you used the point of a knife to etch a seriously crude sketch of Hilltop into the door being used as part of the barricade. When it got dark enough, Maggie lit the lantern. 

"Soon," she said as she came to stand at your shoulder. "That's beautiful."

You snorted and flipped the knife in your hand before tucking it away. "It's shit and we both know it. Where are they? Lookouts weren't stationed that far away. There should be sign of them by now." 

Like he'd read your freaking mind, Jerry lifted binoculars, studied something, and turned and waved a signal. You straightened immediately, and Maggie turned, calm as anything, to Diane behind her. 

"Here we go," she said simply. 

She took the walkie talkie from you and drew in a deep breath. "Negan. I want to talk to Negan," Maggie snapped into it. 

She reached for your hand when the radio crackled, and you held on. "Well hello there. You are speaking to Negan, but my birth certificate says 'Simon'. With whom do I have the distinct displeasure of speaking?" 

You grimaced. Negan was an asshole, but he made twisted kind of sense, most of the time. Simon was a scary fucker because he seemed so… empty. Maggie shot you a confused look and you shrugged. You had no idea where Negan was or why he hadn't answered the goddamn phone. 

"Maggie. Maggie Rhee. The Widow," Maggie growled into the radio. You squeezed her hand, in sympathy or celebration of how goddamn badass that was, you weren't sure which. 

"Well then. Hello again, Widow Rhee, and allow me to offer my condolences. For what's happened, and what's about to happen. In case it's not already plain as Hilltop potatoes, yours truly is speaking on behalf of Negan this go 'round, and I assure you that the man himself personally received your care package next day delivery. I noticed that it was the box that I gave you in good faith-- tricks on me. But the bill's come due, and you and your people are gonna have to pay."

"Do they all just keep talking?" Maggie muttered.

You scoffed. "Simon wants to be Negan, so-" You shrugged. 

"Yeah," Maggie drew the word out, annoyance in it, as she stared out into the night. Behind you both, the door opened and the prisoners were lead out onto the portico. You didn't turn to look, because you didn't actually care. "Your thirty-eight people are alive and breathing. Turn around, leave us be, and they stay that way. But if you don't? I have thirty-eight bullets that I will personally fire into all thirty-eight."

She turned to one of them, named Alden, who had been semi-elected spokesman for the prisoners. He gave her a concerned look, but when she clicked the button, he spoke. "Too nice a night to spend it dyin' slow, don't you think, Simon?"

"So how's this gonna go?" 

Silence for a moment, then static and an angry Simon. "Well, Maggie Rhee. This is highly regrettable, but the way I see it, the Saviors you're in possession of there? Damaged good. You know, they've gotten themselves into their own pickle, and this organization prizes those who A, avoid capture, and B, figure out their own shit when said outcome eventuates. Which in the end is my way of saying screw them."

You smiled down at the floor, even as Gregory the fucking tool ran his mouth about if the plan would work. Thing was, it already had. They were never going to surrender, never going to turn around and leave- and you didn't want them to. None of you. 

"It already has," Maggie said softly.

Darrie's bike cut through the eerie silence of the night, the engine roaring the signal you'd been waiting for. Maggie ordered the gate opened as gunfire echoed from the road and Saviors yelled. Your hands clenched into fists as you waited to see if your brother would make it through and the plan out work, or if- 

He'd make it, you told yourself firmly. He'd make it. 

The bike shot through gate, the bus started moving immediately, and seconds later Darrie was pulling the bike into a control wreck and jumping off as the first of the Savior's trucks slammed into the carefully reinforced target on the bus. Not only had part one worked, but it had worked beautifully, and you smiled as Maggie screamed 'now!'

Gunfire rocked the night. 

Then the arrows started firing back, and you ducked below the barricade with Maggie while the prisoners were lead back to her office. "What the hell? Arrows? They have Eugene," you muttered when she turned back to watching the battle. 

"I have no idea," she admitted. "Where the hell is he?" 

"Negan? No idea on that either. We gotta go inside, Mags," you urged when Alden's pleas to help defend the place fell on utterly deaf ears. You wanted Negan dead and done, sure. Maggie was getting scary in her single-minded intensity. 

"Lookouts, fall back! Front line, give 'em cover!" Maggie finally yelled, and turned to you. "Ok?" 

"Let's do this, Rhee."

"Another," you declared, slamming the shot glass down on the table and laughing. "Order us more. Hey, Billy!" 

Billy lifted an eyebrow and shot a dry look at your brothers when you hailed him excitedly. "She good?" 

"She can speak for herself." You were only mildly affronted. You were, in fact, pretty goddamn drunk, but that was the point, wasn't it? You and Darrie had made it to twenty-one. You were officially legal, and Merle had brought the two of you out to his hangout here to celebrate. 

And celebrate you were, you thought happily. Shots had been flowing, you'd been up on the floor dancing with that cute guy over there in the corner who was eyeing you still even as he chatted with another woman, and you were seriously considering dancing with him some more. Daryl was maybe a little less inebriated that you were, being more used to think kind of drinking. You usually avoided it- you hated feeling out of control, hated feeling like Will- but tonight you were getting shitfaced and no one could stop you. 

Not even Billy. "Sorry, darlin', but you're getting close to trashed. I'm obligated to check on my customers."

"Awww, c'mon man. It's their twenty-first. They's supposed to get all sloppy drunk an' have some fun!" Merle drawled, winking your way. "Hit us with another round, won't ya, man?" 

"One more," Billy said dryly. "Then I'm cutting them off. Which I should be doing already, considering you've been bringing them in here to have a drink for two years now, and you're telling me they turned twenty-one today." 

You started giggling and couldn't stop. "Sorry! Sorry. Really. I'm just gonna- go use the bathroom." 

"Need a hand?" Darrie asked, grinning and starting to laugh as well when you staggered a little as you got up. Billy muttered an oath and turned to go further down the bar, steadfastly ignoring you. Probably because Merle tipped him fucking well. And because a bunch of his gang buddies were there, and tipping good as well.

"I'm fineeeeee," you told him dramatically. "I'll be back. Another!" 

They laughed as you stumbled again and headed for the bathroom. 

You weren't, looking back, entirely certain how things worked in real time. You remembered the cutie from the dance floor intercepting you on your way there. There was dancing, flirting. You remembered you needed to pee and told him you'd be back. 

He helped you get there, hands firm on your hips and breath hot along your neck. 

You were fairly certain you were the one who started kissing him, and you knew you were the one who pulled him into the bathroom with you. You'd definitely been the one who started fumbling with clothes, and he'd had his hands under your shirt when you finally managed to get his belt off. 

You'd done a lot of laughing and so had he. You'd been working your way to, if not really getting off, at least feeling goddamn good, when someone slammed open the door. Both of you froze, you slapping your hand over the cutie's mouth as well as yours to try to keep in the giggles. Both of you started fumbling at your clothes, trying to put them back on correctly when your big brother's voice called your name. 

He sounded more amused than anything else, and you tugged on your shirt again and semi-fell out of the stall door before you realized your pants weren't buttoned. "Hey, Merle. What's up?" you asked, going for innocent as the cutie followed you out. 

Merle's eyes raked over you and the guy, and his face went hard and pissed. "Ace, honey, get ya ass outside." 

"Merle-" 

"Out!" he roared, and you flinched back because god he sounded like Will when he did that. You darted out the door, ran smack into Darrie, and heard the sound of a punch from inside. 

You promptly threw up. 

You'd all gotten kicked out, of course, and Merle only avoided getting arrested because Billy and his gang buddies covered for him when the cops came. You decided pretty much instantly that you were never getting that drunk again. Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I think. You be the judge. 
> 
> Last Chance Liars is plotted all the way to the end! Y'all are the best, and I'm sooooo pumped for the next leg, guys!!!


	69. Lie #69: "I'm The One Supposed To Be All Reckless." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

Shane popped over the hood of the truck to fire, saw two go down, and ducked back to check his rounds. He was fine for the moment, so he gestured broadly and went back to it. "Holy shit, brother. Why the hell did you go after him like that? You're the one that made the goddamn plan." 

"I wanted to take him out. Cut off the head and the body will follow, right?" Rick snapped. He fired three times and scoffed when his rifle clicked. "Cover me."

Shane avoided asking when the hell he didn't cover Rick simply because he was focused on another issue. "So instead of givin' us the alert, maybe calling for backup or something, you got in a high speed chase, wrecked a vehicle, and followed him into a burning building for a fistfight?" 

"Like you wouldn't have done the exact same thing!" Rick snarled. 

"That's exactly my point, man! I'm the one supposed to be all reckless, and you're lighting shit on fire and getting in fights!" Shane frowned when an arrow sank into one of the truck's tires. "Arrows? They have Eugene."

Rick met Shane's confused look with one of his own, and Shane turned to look at the porch and make sure Slugger was doing what the fuck she was supposed to. Maggie's voice yelled for the lookouts to fall back, and then Shane nodded, satisfied, as she and Slugger slipped through the door to Barrington House. 

"Ready to move?" 

Shane set the rifle to his shoulder and huffed out a deep breath. "Let's go, Grimes. Lighting the bat up was a good touch, though," he added conversationally as the two of them rounded their cover and worked their way to the next. "Would have liked to see that shit." 

"Honestly, 22, is now really the time?" Rick grunted. He fired and a couple of assholes with bows stopped shooting, but their friends didn't. 

Shane was still trying to figure out the goddamn arrow thing as they ducked and he shrugged. "It's always the time when you do something dumb, man."

"Fuck you," Rick said pleasantly. "Light's out." 

Shane's eyes narrowed as he watched Rick approaching the brawl. This idiot was going to- 

"Goddamn it," Shane muttered when Rick shoved his gun back in his holster and grabbed one of the drunk idiots. Then his eyes went wide when the man took a clumsy swing at Rick and missed, but his brawling buddy followed that up with a clock to Rick's jaw that had his partner staggering. 

Then the man drew a knife and Shane had to decide if he could take a shot without risking Rick. 

"Rick! What the fuck!" Shane growled, grabbing his partner roughly and fucking shaking him. SWAT swept up the hostage taker and medical was already swarming the weeping victim, but Shane had honestly stopped caring about them about the time Rick blocked the goddamn kill shot. 

Rick hugged Shane and patted him on the cheek. "I'm fine. I talked him down. Don't-"

"I fucking well am going to tell Lori, you asshole," Shane growled. 

"How did Rick get that cut in his uniform, Shane?" 

Inwardly, he winced. He was sitting on Lori's couch, two beers in, watching the game, and the woman ambushed him. She was fucking good, he thought guiltily. Her eyes were serious and worried, and she'd timed it so Rick was upstairs putting the little man to bed and couldn't deflect. 

Shane lifted the beer, both to wet his suddenly dry throat and to give himself a chance to think rapidly. He so did not want to tell her about the man and the knife from two days ago, since Rick didn't get cut and everything was fine. It was just the shirt.

And Rick had said "don't tell Lori." Like an idiot, Shane had agreed. 

Lori sighed. "Shane, please." 

Damn it. 

"Don't do anything stupid, 22," Rick said seriously. He had the scope up to his eye and was panning slowly, waiting for the runner to appear. 

Shane snorted. "Like you, you mean?" 

Leon Bassett laughed. 

They disengaged, right on time. Shane jerked his head in acknowledgement when Daryl and Michonne joined them, and Daryl nodded back. Dixon looked pissed, but Dixon always looked pissed. 

He and Rick grabbed flashbangs from their pockets and Daryl did too. "Mark. One. Two. Three," Shane counted down, and they lobbed them onto the gravel drive and covered their eyes. 

Lights and sound exploded everywhere, and the others started shooting at the trucks. In seconds, silence and darkness fell. Now they waited. 

Daryl held out a cigarette and Shane stared at him like he was insane. Daryl shrugged, put it between his lips, and grimaced when he lifted the lighter and caught Shane's patiently interested expression. He patted Dixon on the back sympathetically, trying not to laugh as Daryl lowered the lighter and shoved the cigarette behind his ear. He couldn't light up and give away their position and Dixon knew it. 

Daryl flipped him off and squinted up at Barrington House. 

Shane studied it as well, knowing behind one of those windows was Ace with a rifle. At least she was in there, where it was as safe as it could be in a battle, and not out here in the thick of it where she'd wanted to be. That had been a goddamn war all of its own, with Dixon calmly listening as his sister called him Darlene, Deborah, and Delilah in rapid succession before she'd shut up and asked why the hell she needed to stay inside. 

Shane had thought she'd go off like a damn bomb when Daryl shrugged and said "macho sexist bullshit" but she'd started laughing instead. Daryl had grinned, kissed her cheek, and stated the obvious: "you're pregnant, sis". It had still taken three other people agreeing with him and Shane, a half hour of reasoned arguments, and another ten minutes of negotiation on being out on the porch with Maggie before she agreed. 

Shane loved her so damn much. 

The Saviors were idiots, and that worked in their favor so Shane wasn't mad about it. They were creeping out from cover in a group. They'd split into three, but Shane knew their people had broken into groups as well. 

It was when they started the damn whistle that Shane flashed Rick and Daryl a grin. They thought Hilltop had run. This part was going to be fuckin' fun. 

The lights cut on all at once, in a perfect moment of prearranged synchronization, and as the Saviors jerked back and shielded their eyes, the shooting started from the house. 

The Saviors broke and ran. They were met with the rest of Hilltop's lookouts,. Some of them got away, but that wasn't surprising. 

Shane lost Rick for a bit while he was chasing that asshole Simon with the empty smile. Shane almost had him, too, but he made a break for it and managed to hit the trucks before Shane- out of ammo at the critical moment, of course- could reach him. Shane stood panting and annoyed at the gate, watching the truck drive away with Simon, Dwight, and a bunch of others. 

Rick appeared at his side, covered in blood and sweat and holding his fucking axe. Shane snorted. "Should have known. Soon as I lose you, you go feral." 

"Did you see him? Did you see him?" 

Shane's head whipped around and he glared as Maggie skidded into the open gate, her gun up and a wild look in her eyes. "What the hell are you-" 

"I wanted them dead. All of them. Negan most of all," she said, voice rough and angry and heartbroken. 

"Yeah," Shane said slowly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Me too." 

"Did you see him?" she asked again. 

Rick sighed. "He wasn't here. I saw him out there. Broke away and tried to kill him. Only barely got back here before you closed up. I didn't manage it. But I tried." 

Maggie leaned into Shane, slumping in defeat. "Thank you," she whispered to them both. 

Daryl fell into step with them, anger radiating off him in waves Shane could have touched. "Fuckin' Dwight was here. Fuckin' shot Tara with a goddamn arrow."

"She ok?" Shane asked sharply, his eyes scanning the cleanup already in motion. Looking for Ace, because there was no way she'd actually listened and stayed put inside until he or Daryl came for her. Absolutely no way. 

Daryl's shoulder jerked. "Will be. Hit her shoulder. No major damage, just hurts like a bitch. All that fuckin' talk, from her an' Ace an' that shithead himself about bein' on our side, and he fuckin' shoots her." 

"Don't know, man," Shane said, frowning because he didn't see Ace yet, but also because the whole arrows-and-knives thing was really bothering him. They had a bullet maker, but next to no one had been armed with guns. It didn't make sense. And where the hell was Ace? "Seems like maybe he was maintaining his cover. Coulda done a lot worse than a shoulder shot." 

"Fuck you, man," Dixon snapped. "He's a dick." 

"Well, yeah," Shane agreed. "Not sayin' otherwise. Where the hell's your- Jesus." 

"Jesus ain't my nothin'," Daryl muttered, sounding confused, but Shane wasn't really listening. 

He'd found Slugger. She was bent over someone's body, head to head with Siddiq on the body's other side, and bloody up to her elbows. Shane was at her side in a blink, barely sparring a glance for Tobin's pale face. He'd feel bad about that later, but right now he was worried about the pinched look in Ace's eyes and how secluded a corner he'd just found them in. 

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked calmly. "And how long you been out here?" 

"Trying to save a life," Ace snapped, not looking up. "Siddiq-" 

"Keep the pressure. You're doing great. Tobin, we're almost done here and then we'll get Shane and Daryl to help us move you." Siddiq's voice was as calm and steady as it had been in the trailer when he told them their babies were ok, and Shane spared a second to think with approval that the man was an excellent doctor. 

"You shouldn't be out here, sis," Daryl objected, even as Siddiq sat back, nodded at Ace, and pointed Daryl and Shane to Tobin's head and feet. 

"I'm helping," she shot back. "Siddiq, keep the pressure?" 

"Yes. Lift on three. Tobin, stay awake." 

Shane lifted on three, grateful that Daryl had been the one to object instead of him. She was obviously helping, he thought as he moved with them toward the medical trailer. But- "Slugger, you look tired. You should head inside, get some rest." 

Ace shot him an annoyed look. "There's a lot still to do. I'm no expert, but I can set a stitch. I'm fine, hero. Let me do my part." 

"I need her. She's got steady hands and a good head on her shoulders," Siddiq informed him bluntly. "There were a lot injured. I will not let her risk herself or your children. Door!" 

The last was yelled as they reached the medical trailer, and Shane eyed the steps as the door was opened from the inside and wondered how all four of them would fit through the doorway while maneuvering Tobin. 

"Ace, step away on three, and follow us. Put the pressure back on as soon as he's on the bed," Siddiq ordered. "Gentlemen, up and to the left. Steady and quick as possible. One. Two. Three." 

Shane kissed Ace's cheek when Tobin was down and her hands were pressed back to the nasty wound on his chest. "Please be careful. Don't push yourself, baby." 

Her eyes were soft as she nodded. "I won't. Go help. I'm ok. We all are." She looked pointedly at both him and Dixon, and Shane knew she wasn't budging any time soon. She was also, unfortunately, right.

Daryl scowled but he didn't press the issues. "I can stitch too, doc."

"You can't stitch for shit," Ace shot back.

Tobin laughed weakly, as did Siddiq and the other three blood-splattered people working over the injured. The Kingdom's doctor flashed them a wicked grin as she bent over Tobin with Siddiq. 

"You heard the lady! Now get out of my OR or scrub up!"

Shane sighed, kissed Slugger again, and herded Daryl out with him. There was shit to do.


	70. Lie #70: "I'm Following Orders, I Swear!" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> mentions of past child abuse

Siddiq forced you to stop. You argued briefly, but even you had to admit he was right. You were exhausted. 

You wandered bleary-eyed through the Hilltop, bottle of water in hand, and ran into Tara. "What are you doing?" you demanded as she climbed out of one of the armored cars. 

She started to glare, but you'd been the one who helped remove the damn arrow and patch up her shoulder. "It's just a scratch," she muttered. "Thank you, by the way. For fixing it. You look tired." 

"I am tired," you admitted. "But-" 

"Hey. You shouldn't be out here!" 

You and Tara both turned to Daryl. "Which one of us?" you asked mildly. 

He tossed hair from his eyes and you added finding a pair of scissors and cutting it while he slept to your mental to-do list. "Both of ya. Sis, ya look beat. Go the fuck to sleep." 

"I'm on my way there," you muttered, sipping as you scanned Hilltop. People were moving everywhere, cleaning up the set up from the night before, and- if you new Maggie- preparing for either another attack or to run. 

You weren't sure this place could withstand another attack. Especially one with bullets instead of arrows. 

"Get there faster," Daryl shot back at you. "Tara, ya-" 

"It's just a scratch," she insisted. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "More than a scratch, but she can move cars and do other light labor." 

"What if it wasn't?" Darrie spat, and you pried eyes that were half-closing against your will open at the anger in his tone. 

"Then it would be my own damn fault," Tara said calmly. 

"What are we arguing about, you guys?" 

Daryl scoffed and tossed his hands up, waving in Tara's direction. "Fuckin' Dwight's the one fuckin' shot her!" 

Oh. You frowned, but Tara seemed composed and unworried by that fact. "He's back with them because of me," she said steadily. 

"Naw, he's back with 'em because that's who he is," Daryl snarled. 

You sighed. "No, it's not." 

"Sis-" 

"Darrie-" 

Tara cleared her throat. "We got lucky. Finding Maggie. Rick. It could've been different. It was for me, when I was with the Governor." 

Somehow you always forgot about that. You forgot Tara had come to your group in the attack that destroyed your home, mostly because she'd erased any black mark from that with the simple fact of helping keep Glenn and your idiot brother alive. 

Your idiot brother who was gone now, you thought as tears stung your eyes. Gone because he'd asked Dwight to kill him. 

"Yeah, but you weren't one of 'em," Darrie protested. 

"But I was with them," Tara countered. "Your brother, too." 

Daryl scoffed. "My brother? He ran the wrong way his whole life. If I'd have stuck with him, we'd be with the Saviors or some other group just like 'em." 

"Shut up, Daryl," you snapped. You glared at your twin and he glared back, but Darrie being pissed at you had never bothered you. "Just shut up. Yeah, he was bad fuckin' news, especially for awhile, and I'll be the first to admit that. Hell, I yelled it at you long and loud, but you were too damn stubborn with blind fuckin' loyalty to listen. But Merle changed, Darrie. He changed. Don't you dare act like he didn't!" 

Tears were rolling down your face and Daryl was giving you an odd look, but you shook your head and shoved a hand through your hair. "I get it. I know what he did. But D- shit. D reminds me of Merle. He figured it out. He only stayed for Sherry, and if you can't understand that shit, well. You need a good long look in the mirror then." 

Darrie scoffed, but Tara spoke before he could argue. "Maybe Dwight figured out who they really were. He's not one of them." 

"That before or after he killed your girl? Or is that all square now?" 

Your head whipped around and you shot your brother a disgusted look. How dare he bring that up to her like that? What the hell was he thinking? That was some Will-ass bullshit right there and you could have slapped him.

"It is," Tara said softly. "Look, I might hate him forever, but he saved my life." 

"He tried to kill you last night!" 

She shook her head. "When we were in the woods, when we were coming here, I saw him try to help us win!" 

"Yeah. I saw what I saw, too," Darrie snarled. "Sis, go the fuck to sleep before I sic the cop on ya." 

You tossed your hands up in frustration as he stalked away. "What the hell was that?" 

Tara shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. I'm sorry for what happened at the swamp." 

"Shut up," you muttered. "Water, bridge. Don't strain that shoulder or it'll take longer to heal." 

"Yes, mom," she said, smile on her lips, and you rolled your eyes and headed for the stairs. You'd nap in Maggie's office or something, since you were pretty sure Jesus' trailer had been taken over already. 

Shane called your name as you closed the door to the main house. "Slugger-" 

"What, did Darrie send you? I'm going to Maggie's office to crash," you declared with a groan. "I swear I'm following orders!" 

He was obviously trying not to smile as he wrapped an arm around you. "That's good to know, sweetheart, but all I was gonna say was we've taken over a room upstairs. Splitting it with the Grimes clan, but still. Everyone's out of there right now." 

"Oh." You yawned and leaned against him as he steered you to the sweeping staircase. "Ok, then. I don't mind sharing with them." 

Shane laughed in your ear and you closed your eyes as you slowly climbed the stairs. "Need a lift, Slugger?" 

"No, I'm fine. I'm-" You squeaked when he scooped you up anyway, eyes shooting open as you grabbed at his shoulders. You glared at his smirk from up close. "Damn it, Dickhead." 

"Hush. You were almost passed out on my shoulder," he informed you, already heading up the stairs at a much faster pace than you'd been managing. "You will sleep, you hear me?" 

"I plan to," you admitted, giving in and closing your eyes again. "Then maybe I'll sneak up to the top of this place and sketch. Maggie's got some paper somewhere, right?" 

"If not, I'll learn how to make it for you." He kissed your nose when you snorted at him. "But sketch tomorrow, please? Sleep." 

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, not making any promises as he laid you down. "You staying?" 

"Wish I could, but I gotta get back out there. Rick and Maggie want to put our heads together again."

You grumbled a complaint, but you were already falling asleep. He brushed his lips to yours lightly and you were gone. 

"Siddiq, Dr. Dana, Miss Ace. They're good." 

You smiled a little at the 'Miss Ace', shamelessly listening in as one of your patients talked to Maggie. It was late, and Shane was sleeping now- as were the Grimes' clan- but you'd been restless. You'd snuck up to the copula sometime after dark, and you were on your way back down when you'd seen Maggie making her rounds with a candle. 

"We're lucky to have them," she said softly. 

Hilltop was full to bursting, and Maggie had packed as many of the walking wounded into the main house as she could. The trailers were also full, and many people were bedding down in the hallways with pillows and blankets. Maggie was crashing in her office with Jesus, and your room held you, Shane, Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judy and Gracie. 

Darrie had scoffed and said he'd sleep in the back of a car before he joined all of you. You thought he'd ended up in the room with Tara, but you honestly weren't sure. 

"We're lucky to have you," Maggie's patient countered. "If Gregory had been in charge, this place wouldn't be standing. He was all about what was good for him. That's not you." 

"He's right," you said softly, stepping out of the shadows. "Get some rest," you added semi-sternly. He'd taken an arrow to the thigh, and he'd be fine in a few days, but only if he stayed off the leg. 

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed with a smile, and laid down. 

You fell into step with Maggie, who had a look you recognized. "What's wrong?" 

She stared over the crowded floor, people sleeping piled together like your group had for so long and so often. "I don't know. I wanted Negan here. I sent him the body in the box to draw him here, to make him mad so that the last thing he saw was- was Glenn's- Glenn's grave. I don't think that makes me a good leader." 

"Maybe not, but it makes you human," you countered. You covered her hand with yours and she shook her head, lips pressed together. "Maggie, when I was eleven I thought about killing my father while he slept. I stood over him and thought 'I could get a knife from the kitchen and slit his throat and he'd never wake up again.'" 

She turned to face you, surprise in her eyes. "Why didn't you? He needed it, from what I understand." 

"I was eleven. Thinking it scared me so bad I went and crawled in Merle's bed and cried. I've never told anyone about that, not even Darrie or Merle. The point is," you said slowly. "I know you hate him. I hate him. And I know sometimes, how much you hate him can scare you into thinking you're just like him, in a way." 

She turned away and you squeezed her hand tighter. "You're not. You're nothing like him. Because you don't let the anger and the hate rule every decision you make. It was a good plan, Maggie. Motivated by whatever it was motivated by, it was a good plan. Go to bed. Little pancake needs rest." 

There were tears in her eyes when she looked at you. "Thank you. You go to bed too. You got two pancakes in there." 

"I'm gonna be so fat," you declared solemnly, and she laughed. 

You were settling Gracie back in her crib when the screaming started. Shane and the others rolled to their feet instantly, weapons in hand, and you were already heading for the door. 

"Slugger, stay here," Shane snapped as you tossed it open and saw walkers rising, wounded who should have healed in a couple of days turning dead, hungry eyes on others. "What the fuck?" 

"This doesn't make sense," you muttered. 

"Stay here. Watch the babies," he repeated, grabbing sour arm and pleading with his eyes. 

You started to agree, but Siddiq caught your eye, running for a screaming woman and grabbing her bitten arm to lay it flat. He had a machete in hand and you knew what he was about to do. "I can't, Dickhead," you answered him. "I can help." 

"Slugger-"

"I'll stay. Aunt Ace should help Siddiq," Carl cut in. 

Shane looked agonized but Rick gripped Carl's shoulder as he and Michonne ducked past you to head into the melee. The woman started yelling louder and sobbing as Siddiq's machete came down on her arm, just below the elbow. 

You thought of Merle hacking off his own hand and took Shane's face in yours. "I can't stay. I have to help. I'll be careful. You be too." You kissed him hard and he nodded, hand tangling in your hair for a second before he ducked around the corner yelling for Rick. 

You nodded at Carl, took a deep breath, and sprinted to Siddiq. You dropped down beside him and he didn't even look up. 

"Pressure. Here. On the blanket. You've done this before?" 

You thought about Hershel, in the prison a thousand years ago, and shrugged as you put pressure where he'd wanted it. "Sort of." 

"Good enough." 

"What the hell happened?" Darrie's voice carried to you as you worked feverishly with Siddiq over another amputation. 

"Don't know. Maybe walkers got in," Rick answered. 

"Lift. I need to-" Siddiq didn't have to finish that; you lifted the blanket and blocked out the sounds of the men in your life arguing. 

"These are all our own people, though." Daryl sounded bewildered. 

You were losing the man beneath your hands, and you and Siddiq both knew it. He was bleeding too much, and he'd been injured already, before the walkers, and- 

"Siddiq," you said tiredly. You were watching the man's eyes, and they'd faded to grey. He was gone. "Siddiq, move." 

He turned almost instantly, and you leaned forward and sank the knife into his temple. You sat back with Siddiq, reaching across the body to squeeze his hand with your own bloody one. 

Then it hit you, as you looked at your knife and all the blood on your hands. "Darrie. Shane." 

They were at your side instantly, Rick hovering just behind them, and you looked up, voice grim. "Arrows. They came with arrows, when they have Eugene. Arrows and knives. Most of these people had stab wounds, slashes, minor things really, that should have healed fine." 

"Yeah, and?" Darrie asked as Shane pulled you to your feet. 

You held up the knife with blood on it between you. 

"Fuck," Rick snarled. "Fuck. Negan's bat. When I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he'd crossed some, but…"

"Ok, first of all, 'when I was out there with him'?" you said pointedly. "Secondly- fuck is right." 

"They have us workin' for them again," Maggie's voice came from behind you and you turned to find her looking pissed and guilty as hell. "Killing our own." 

Darrie made a noise like a goddamn tiger. "Tara," he snapped. "Still think that bastard's a decent guy?" 

"Fuck," you whispered again, following right on his heels as he headed for the stairs.


	71. Lie #72: "Call Me Dickhead One More Time And We're Gonna Fight." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> mentions of past drug abuse/addiction

Dawn came, and Tara was fine. Maggie's prisoners had partly escaped and partly stayed and helped close the gates, and Shane didn't know how to feel about that, but he did know that Rick was being weird and he was worried. And Ace was being Ace, and he was worried. 

Mostly, Shane realized he was just worried. 

He left Ace sleeping, slipping out with Rick and Michonne to help with cleanup, and ran into Tara and Dixon instead. Dixon was doing something with a knife and an arrow, and Tara looked annoyed as hell. Shane glanced between them and smiled at Tara. "Hey. How you feeling?" 

"It's been over a day. I'm still not sick. Doc says I'm fine," she answered, eyes not leaving Dixon's. 

"She's a tough son of a bitch," Dixon said with a jerk of his chin. 

Tara sighed loudly and Shane wondered what he'd just walked into. Then she turned a slight smile Shane's way and very pointedly spoke to him. "It means Dwight shot me with a clean arrow." 

"Or it means ya got lucky. Could be anything." 

Shane gave Daryl a look. "Your sister thinks he's on our side." 

"My sister got as much of a fuckin' hero complex as you do, Walsh," Daryl growled. "It's not like a bite. Sometimes nothin' happens."

"Daryl-" 

"Look, if Dwight knew, he coulda warned us. Coulda sent us a message," Daryl said with a shrug. Like that answered it all. 

Shane, not really sure he wanted to be in this argument anyway, cause he didn't like the man all that much and he'd seen Daryl when he first came back, shifted anyway. "Ain't necessarily true, man." 

"Whose side ya on?" 

"Ace's," he answered instantly, and like he'd summoned her, out she stepped. 

"Morning. I see we're arguing already," she said dryly, squeezing his hand in passing as she stared from Daryl to him to Tara. "Let me guess. Dwight. Tara, any symptoms?" 

"Nope. Doc says I'm safe. He shot me with a clean one," Tara recapped. "Your brother thinks I'm lucky." 

Ace sighed and gave Daryl a look. "Darrie, honestly. How hard is it to think the man might be on our side now?" 

"Five by five cell an' dogfood sandwiches hard, sis," he snarled. 

Shane saw what ran across her face, and wrapped an arm around her. "Hey." 

Daryl shrugged, but shot her an apologetic look. "She asked. Look. He let a whole day go by while our people lay around dyin'. If he'd been on our damn side, he'd have sent a message." 

"Everybody else in the battle who got injured got sick," Tara said gently. "That can't be an accident." 

"So he gets a pass then? That it?" 

Ace stirred under his arm and sighed. "No. He doesn't get a pass. He knows what he did to you, Darrie. He knows how it all ends. But for fuck's sake, just stop- stop demonizing him. He's not Negan. He's just another survivor like us, but he and Sherry- they made some shit choices. Wish you could see that. I'm going to talk to Maggie." 

She kissed her brother's cheek and he leaned in her direction, which Shane figured was a whole-ass apology and acceptance from them both. Ace smiled at Tara and headed over to where Maggie and Jesus stood deep in discussion. 

"You said we might need him, and we might need him now more than ever," Tara said, voice going sharp for the first time. "And I'm saying that if I had killed him in the woods, I would be dead right now. Do what you gotta do," she added softly, meeting Daryl's smoldering anger. "But know that it's just for you. I'm out." 

Shane stood silent as Tara walked away, then studied Daryl. He kept working on his damn arrow, face expressionless under the pissed that radiated from his movements. "She's right, man." 

"Who asked you, Dickhead?" 

"You know, I'm getting real tired of giving you passes on that one. Call me Dickhead one more time and we're gonna fight," he said solemnly. 

Daryl glanced at him, sneered, and shrugged one shoulder. "Fine with me." 

"Yeah, figured." Shane sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes at the ghost of a smile on Daryl's lips. "Look, stubborn asshole, if you wanna kill Dwight, I'll help, man. Already told you that. But I'm just sayin', for argument's sake here, maybe- maybe you should listen to your sister. I don't know why, but she thinks he's not the worst thing in the damn world, and- well, do you want to piss her off right now? I don't." 

Daryl half-laughed at that and shot Shane an appreciative look, and Shane grinned lazily at him in response. Then he waved the arrow Shane's way and half-nodded. "I'll think on it. Ain't makin' any promises, but…"

Shane slapped him on the shoulder as he headed off to figure out what the fuck Slugger thought she was doing with that shovel she'd just picked up. "Good enough. Find me if you wanna talk." 

"We ain't friends, Walsh." 

"Yeah, we are, Dixon," he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

He wrestled the shovel from Slugger with difficulty, but on the sliding scale of stubborn Dixon behavior, that wasn't bad. She sighed and glared at him when he handed it off to Bertie, looking mutinous. 

"I want to help, damn it." 

He kissed her. Mostly just because he could. "I know, but sweetheart, you gotta admit you're in a bit of a unique situation here. Anyone can shovel. Not anyone can grow twins." 

"I am not an Easy-Bake Oven, you know," she snapped, but she didn't move away from where he'd pulled her into him for the kiss. 

He laughed. "Ain't nothin' easy about you, Slugger, and you damn well know it." 

She rolled her eyes pushed him away playfully. "If you won't let me help, someone needs to find me some paint." 

"I'll get right on that," he muttered. He squinted toward the main house, where Rick came striding out there door looking fierce. "What is going on with that man? I tell you he tried to take Negan out one on one instead of laying on the horn? Lit the damn bat on fire." 

"Fuck Lucille," Ace muttered. "Good for Rick." 

"Goddamn you people are dramatic. I thought I was the reckless one." He smiled when she hooked her hand in his and they started Rick's way, but he wasn't going to be swayed from the current conversation. "There's something up with that man, and your brother's gone all wrath and thunder for Dwight. Rosita's still a mess, even if she's gotten better. Morgan- I don't even know what's going on with him. Carol's still not right. Only one seems less hell for leather on the crazy train is Tara. Frankly, it worries me." 

"That Tara's calmed down, or the amount of crazy going around?" Ace asked archly. 

Shane snorted. "The amount of crazy, but come to think of it, both."

"That's fair," Ace said. "Wish Darrie would get off Dwight's ass. He's- Look. He's not a good guy, but honestly, neither are we. And I'd be willing to kill him for what he did to Darrie, hands down, but- well. There's- there's other things." 

Shane gave her a sharp look, stopping where they were. No one was around, and she was staring at the ground with tears in her eyes as she bit at her lip. "Slugger," he said softly, carressing her cheek and raising her chin gently. "What's going on?" 

"He killed Merle. D did. Merle- Merle asked him to," she whispered, the tears spilling over. "So I wouldn't- with Negan, and- and because of the pain meds. Doctor Carson had him on the powerful shit, and he didn't want-" 

Shane pulled her in immediately, even as his mind whirled. She clung to him and cried, and he stroked her hair and whispered nonsense in her ear and wondered when the hell the goddamn lump would stop surprising him. 

If he'd followed what she'd just dumped on him, Merle had asked Dwight to kill him so he wouldn't become an addict again. And, in a move that didn't surprise him in the least, he'd done it to keep Ace free from Negan. 

That, Shane thought, sounded just like Merle, and it broke his heart for everything both of them had sacrificed and endured. 

"Shit, sweetheart. I don't even know what to say," he said when she'd stopped crying and was just leaning against him. He rubbed her back, hesitating, but- "Have you told your brother?" 

"Darrie? Shit no," she mumbled. "I can't tell him. He already wants to murder Dwight. And I know I probably should too, but the thing is- the thing is, I can't. I hate him, like Tara. But I get him, and I have sympathy for him. I mean hell, Dickhead. We said whatever it takes, didn't we? Why would they do less?" 

"Yeah," Shane said softly, thinking about the number of times the two of them had said that. "Yeah."

"Besides, I helped D frame a man and get him burned to death in a furnace. My hands aren't exactly clean these days." 

Shane blinked, pushing her back by the shoulders so he could give her a concerned as hell look. "I'm sorry, Slugger- you did what now?"

Shane didn't get more than the condensed version of that story because Rick strode up with a wild-ass plan and a look Shane didn't like, and he spent some time trying to convince the man to stay put and let the prisoners escape rather than chase them down and go full throat-ripping-Rick on them. That mostly just earned him a disgusted expression and Rick shrugging with a hand on his hatchet, and Shane was worried about that man, he really was. He had no idea what the fuck had crawled up Rick's ass, but it seemed to be there to stay, and he was torn between watching Rick's back like usual and making sure Slugger didn't do anything dumb herself, like start digging graves the minute his back was turned. 

Or fraternize with the remaining prisoners, which is what she was doing while he tried to get Rick to have a conversation and not be as emotionally constipated as Shane's Dixons were. Shane kept half an eye on her and tried to reason with Rick with the part of his brain that wasn't worrying about her, Daryl, Maggie, and everything else, but he failed and he knew he couldn't go with his friend. 

Rick stalked out the gates and Ace reappeared at his side, leaning against him as he watched the gate close slowly. 

"You're not going with him?" 

Shane sighed. "No. He's being dumb." 

"That's usually when you stick to him like glue, Dickhead," she said dryly. "Are you not going because of me?" 

He snorted. "Duh." 

"Don't do that. I'm still me. I can still take care of my damn self," she said, tone sharper than maybe she knew it was. "I'm not helpless; I'm pregnant." 

"I know. But I still want to be close, Slugger. They could attack again, and I need to be here if they do," he told her calmly, and kissed her nose while she processed whether or not she wanted to get annoyed by that. "Come on. Let's go find the kids." 

Jesus intercepted them with a smug look and his hands behind his back, and Ace's eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. "What'd you find?" 

He shrugged. "Maybe something. Maybe nothing. Depends on your perspective." 

Shane snorted and almost walked away right then, but his curiosity was struck as badly as Ace's was. Plus, he liked the way Jesus made her laugh, even if the way she looked at the ninja man was almost enough to make him jealous. 

Almost. 

She scoffed and crossed her arms, narrowed eyes turning into a glare. "Don't give me any of that holy roller shit, damn it. What did you find?" 

Jesus couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes, even as he went for a bored shrug and pulled a pad of graph paper from behind his back. "Perspective. I mean, to me, this- this just some paper. To you…" 

The ninja trailed off as Ace squealed and clawed at him, and Jesus darted backwards and made her chase him, both of them laughing as they went. Shane shook his head and shoved a hand through his hair, trying to maintain a severe expression as she finally wrestled the notepad from his hands and wrinkled her nose at him. 

"Children, play nice now," he said, going for stern and unable to handle it. "Slugger, I'm bringing you water and a vegetable in two hours. You've been warned." 

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, already heading for the door to Barrington House. "I'll try not to hit you. I'll be-" 

"We all know where you'll be, sweetheart," he said dryly. Then he looked at Jesus. "Thanks." 

Jesus shrugged. "It's just paper." 

"Not to her," Shane disagreed. 

"True. Not to her," Jesus acknowledged with a smile. He patted Shane's shoulder as he scooped his long hair from his face and waved when someone called his name, and Shane followed Slugger inside.

Rick came back with Morgan, and he looked- Hell. He looked damn rough. 

Shane crossed his arms and cornered his best friend in their room after he got a shower. "The fuck did you do, brother?" 

"What I needed to," Rick said with a shrug, checking the bandage on his side from where Jadis had shot him not that awful long ago and where Negan had hit him with that damn bat even more recently. Then he pulled a shirt over his head while Shane contemplated screaming like Slugger sometimes did- one hard screech, and maybe Rick would be so shocked he'd actually fucking talk. 

Shane took a deep breath instead and spoke calmly. "Which, in terms of actual information being passed along here, means what exactly?" 

"I killed them, 22. We took 'em all out," Rick answered evenly. "You're the last person I'd expect to have a problem with that." 

"And I don't, but see, the look on your face is one I remember seein' in the mirror a few times, and it ain't a good look for you." 

Rick checked the Python and grimaced, then shoved it back in the holster and swung his coat over his shoulders. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Means you look like hell, and I'm worried about you. What really happened?" Shane demanded again. 

Rick gestured vaguely. "Morgan found me. We found them. They took us prisoner and were going to try to use us as bargaining chips to get back in good with Simon. When a herd came through, I gave them all my word we'd take them in if they let us help and gave us our weapons. When they did, we kill 'em. Then we came back here." 

Shane shifted in the doorway and shoved a hand through his hair as he worked to process that one. "You gave them your word and then… took them out?" 

"Yeah." Rick hooked his thumbs through his gun belt and shrugged. "You've been telling me since this thing began that I can't be the good guy and keep everyone safe. Now I'm keeping everyone safe. For you, for Carl and Judy, for Ace and Maggie- I'm doin' whatever it takes, Shane. Like you do." 

Shane didn't know why, but that didn't exactly reassure him inside. Something about this- something about Negan- had crawled under Rick's skin, and Shane didn't like seeing himself reflected in the man who was always so much better a man than he was. 

Shane had thought about monsters and men often over the years, especially since the world up and ended on him, and he'd always known Rick was one of the men. He hated the idea that Negan could make him into one of the monsters, even as a small part of him celebrated. 

If Rick was on the side of the monsters, Negan was as good as dead.


	72. Lie #72: "He Decided They Were." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> vomiting

Rest wasn't something that was happening very well with four adults, a teenager, a toddler, and a baby all jammed into one room, and sometime in the early morning Shane said fuck it and got up. Judy was out, Gracie and Michonne were passed out together in the chair, bottle in Michonne's hand, Carl had his face in the pillow, and Rick cracked an eye when Shane disengaged Slugger from where she was wound around him and eased out of the bed. Shane shrugged, pulled a flannel on, and grabbed his boots and gun belt as he nodded toward the door. Rick jerked his chin in acknowledgement, glanced over everyone, and closed his eyes again. 

Shane waited to laugh until he was out of Barrington House entirely, standing in the hazy dawn light and thinking he felt a chill in the air that meant winter and an entirely new set of problems. Virginia was a damn sight further north than Georgia, even if it was still considered Southern. Winter meant cold and snow and treks from one community to another through the cold with only the clothes on their backs did not sound like Shane's idea of a good time. 

He shoved that to the back of his mind to worry about later, like after Negan's head was on a pike for Maggie's gates, and spotted something concerning. 

"What are you two doing?" 

Dixon didn't twitch. Rosita gave him a pissed off look as she loaded bullets into the magazine for her gun and snapped it into place. Shane wasn't surprised by either of them, since Daryl was Daryl and Rosita was always pissed as hell these days. 

Daryl grunted and traced a finger along the map spread on the hood of his car. "Here. Up through, cut over, and back down." 

Shane looked over Dixon's shoulder with interest and mild trepidation. "Why are you plotting a route?" 

"We're going to keep them from making any more bullets," Rosita said bluntly. She shoved her gun in her holster as Daryl folded the map. "Want in?" 

Shane glanced over his shoulder at the window to Barrington House and sighed. "Your sister's gonna be pissed," he informed Daryl. 

"She'll call ya Shanizzle," Dixon agreed. "Grab a canteen and let's go." 

He watched with the two of them in silence, like they'd made their way to the place mostly in silence. Saviors unloaded buckets of casings outside the machine shop, and Shane knew that unstable or not, Rosita had been on to something with this hairbrained idea. 

"There he is," she muttered as Eugene walked out and surveyed the casings. "Hundreds of them. He'll make hundreds of them."

"So let's do it now." 

Shane sighed as Rosita lowered her binoculars but continued to stare at the buildings. "We don't take out the machines. We take out the man." 

It ended up being easier than he expected. Eugene came out with a single guard, one other on the door. Daryl dropped Eugene's bodyguard with the crossbow, Rosita took the other one out from behind, and Shane snatched the clearly-terrified Eugene by the arm and started hustling him along before the other two had finished up. 

Daryl had a vaguely smug expression as he wiped the tip of his crossbow bolt clean and reloaded it. Shane rolled his eyes. "Don't gloat." 

"Worked, though." 

"Are we home yet? Then it ain't over," he shot back. "Here, get him tied." 

Daryl flashed him the barest hint of a smile and zip tied Eugene's hands. Shane wondered if they should just kill him and be done with it, already, but Rosita had made the excellent argument that they needed him to make bullets for them. Or at the very least, write down the super secret recipe. 

Shane figured if he gave Ace the recipe and enough time to play, she could figure it out for them. 

But Rosita had said kidnap, not kill, and well- he had been one of theirs. So he took point with Daryl and let Rosita keep an eye on her prisoner. 

"I can't help but feel that the reason I am alive is, despite what completely warranted bad blood exists between us, you still harbor a vestigial nostalgia for our erstwhile camaraderie." 

Shane sighed and rolled his eyes when Eugene started talking. He had not missed the man's inability to just say what he fucking meant and shut up about it. Eugene was midway through a speech when Daryl went from vibrating ball of Dixon anger to having his knife in the man's face and demanding that he shut up before Daryl cut his tongue out. 

"Hey, easy there, man," Shane said, grabbing Daryl's arm. Dixon scoffed and jerked free and Shane didn't try to hold him, but at least the man had let go of Eugene and lowered the knife. He stared hard, and Shane wondered what the fuck had crawled up Dixon's ass so bad about him.

Rosita had stepped between Daryl and the cowering Eugene. "We need to keep going. They have to be out looking for him by now." 

Dixon stared for a minute longer and Shane weighed how much he actually cared if Eugene had a tongue and came up with very little. If Daryl wanted to cut it out, Shane wouldn't stop him. 

Daryl started walking again instead. Shane waited a beat, shrugged at Rosita, and followed. 

"Thank you-" 

"Shut up," she hissed viciously at Eugene. "Keep walking." 

"When I told Negan I made the bullet, I did it to save your life," Eugene said as they fell in behind Shane. "I didn't think, I just acted on your behalf. I fully expected the crack of the bat to be the last thing I heard, but that didn't happen." 

Shane flinched, thinking about the sound the bat made connecting with Abraham and with Glenn; with Rick's side in his house and the butt of it slamming into Shane's own skull. He'd been expecting that to be the last thing he heard as well, if he was honest. 

"And then I thought they would torture me. But they didn't," Eugene said firmly. 

Shane's eyes shot to the wings on Daryl's back as he did the angry stalk in front of them, and suddenly he thought he got it. 

"They gave me a chance to live. And I tried to resist; I tried to rise above my biological imperative, but that is not who I am."

"I know who you are," Rosita cut him off. "You're the reason they were able to escape the Sanctuary. Everything that's happened since then, everyone who died? That's on you. Move." 

Eugene shut up, thank god, and Shane picked up the pace to catch up with Daryl. Dixon glanced at him when he fell in at his shoulder, and Shane scanned the quiet buildings and hoped that bringing Eugene back was the right call. "So." 

Dixon snorted. "We gonna talk now or somethin'?" 

"Yeah, or somethin'," Shane agreed. "You good?" 

"Gotta be," Daryl said lightly. "Watch that side-" 

Shane scanned the same hint of movement Daryl had gotten, but it was trash blowing in the breeze. "It's clear. Come on, man. Eugene just said they didn't torture him." 

"Course they didn't." Daryl's voice was quiet, but bitterness dripped from every word. Shane wondered if he knew that, or if he thought he was holding it in better than he was. "He ain't the type to need torture. Torture'd break 'im, but not in the useful way. In the ain't good for shit way." 

"They tortured you." 

Daryl jerked his shoulders. "Didn't work." 

"Just because you didn't break didn't mean it didn't hurt, asshole." 

Dixon shot him a look and Shane lifted an eyebrow. When he didn't say anything else, Shane sighed. "Stubborn ass." 

"Don't call me by my fuckin' middle name, man," Daryl muttered, and Shane half-laughed. Then Dixon sighed. "He's a fuckin' coward." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. "He is." 

"He didn't even try to help my sister. Helped fuckin' Negan instead. Wish we'd just kill him and be done with it." 

"We need ammo too," Shane pointed out, more to keep the man talking than out of any real belief that he needed the reminder. 

Daryl snarled. "Or ya could learn to shoot a bow worth a damn." 

"While that is on the agenda for when our goddamn lives ain't at risk, it's not really a viable solution right now," Shane said dryly. 

"Fair enough. Ace'll teach ya." 

"You keep telling me Ace can't shoot that thing for shit. How is she supposed to teach me?" 

Daryl grinned, glanced over his shoulder to make sure the other two were coming, and Shane watched the light slide from his eyes as he turned back around. "She'll learn by teachin'. She really ok?" 

"Are you?" Shane asked bluntly. 

Dixon didn't respond to that one, and Shane let it drop. They were trying to kidnap a man, after all. 

It was Rosita who actually lost it on Eugene, and Shane found himself standing impassively by as she held a gun under his chin and wondering once again when he'd become the stable one. 

"You're selfish, and you're a coward, and you're a traitor. You turned your back on the only friends you ever had. Shooting you in the head right now would actually make the world a better place," she snarled as he stared, face contorted in fear. 

Shane glanced at Daryl to see if many the other man thought they should do something about this, but the answer seemed to be no. Shane shrugged and watched the trees with one eye and Rosita lose her shit with the other. 

She yanked her gun down and holstered it again, face impassive. "We're not gonna kill you, not because we give a rat's ass about you. We just need what's in there," she added harshly, shoving a finger on his temple. "We're gonna stick you in the darkest hole we can find, and the only time you'll see the light of day is when we need you to teach us how to do something. So don't worry, you'll get what you want. You'll live. But we're going to force you to do something useful with your pathetic life!" 

Shane turned when she grabbed Eugene's arm and got him moving forward again. Yeah, he had somehow become the stable one, and that had him worried for them all. 

They almost pulled it off. They made it back to their car and found it surrounded by five or six walkers, and Shane and Daryl sighed. Shane pulled his knife and Daryl put his crossbow to use, and they'd still have been fine. 

But then Eugene did something Shane hadn't expected, and he watched in shock and almost a bit of awe as Eugene projectile-vomited down Rosita's front and took off running while she stood there in fully understandable shock. It only lasted a second, during which time Daryl and Shane put down the last of their walkers and started pursuit, but Eugene had timed things well. Rosita got caught up with a couple of her own coming around the corner, and by the time they'd sorted themselves out, he'd managed to disappear. 

They hunted for him, but it was no use. In the car, Shane let Rosita take the shotgun seat. After all, she'd gotten puked on. It was the least Shane could do. 

"You know," he said into the silence. "That's not the first time I've seen that trick."

Rosita and Daryl flipped him off in unison.

Shane eyed Rick and eyed the poker table. He frowned down at the red solo cup in his hand and wondered if he and Rick were sober enough to hustle those assholes trying to play pool. 

He decided they were. 

He'd barely convinced Rick of that and begun the process when the call ran through the frat house like a tidal wave, and Shane and Rick looked at each other in a moment of pure panic. They were criminal justice majors, for shit's sake. They could not get busted for underage drinking. That would officially be bad. 

Shane dropped his cup and snatched Rick's from his hands, adding it to his on the pool table. He was looking for an exit, but in addition to the call of 'cops!' that had swept the room, he now heard 'Atlanta PD' in official-sounding tones, and there was a cop in a vest standing in the only exit and surveying the crowd of co-eds with a vaguely disapproving expression. 

Shane was kissing his career aspirations goodbye when it happened. One particularly drunk asshole, one of the frat brothers who was responsible for this little party they were at, staggered up and tossed his arm around the officer's shoulders. 

"Awww, c'mon, man, just join the fun," he slurred, leaning in close. "We're all-" 

Shane froze like everyone else when the drunk bastard vomited a truly impressive waterfall down the cop's front. The collective intake of air spread through the hush in the room, and then all hell broke loose. 

Shane did the only thing he could think to do. He grabbed Rick by the shirt and shoved his brother out the door, past the cop trying to get the drunk kid- still puking- to turn around, and hauled ass into the night with a couple dozen other half-drunk minors celebrating their freedom.


	73. Lie #73: "It Wasn't Really Sneaking Out" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> mentions of past child and domestic abuse

"I know this is important, Rick, and I'll be delighted to stare at it and debate the veracity of what it says just as soon as someone tells me where the fuck my idiot brother and the dumbass father of my unborn children are," you said mildly, staring Rick down with your arms crossed. 

Shane had been gone when you woke up, and so had Darrie. Rick, you found out later, had seen Shane leave the room early that morning, but no one was entirely sure where the two of them might have gone. Rosita either, and you could only conclude that shenanigans were ensuing, and you were ready to go hunt them down yourself. 

You'd even put on your bulletproof vest and loaded the damn Glock. You were heading for the gate with the kind of confident stride of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and would not tolerate being questioned (your only defense against the masses who would make you stay inside) when the damn thing opened and Gregory the asshole came in with his hands up and a map clenched in them. He said he had a message from Dwight about Negan's plans, and suddenly all the people who you had carefully made sure were too busy to see you leaving were very interested in what you were doing and where you thought you were going. 

It was annoying. You cared about ending Negan, like Dwight was requesting in all caps on the damn map, but you cared about locating your family a little more, and Rick had that stubborn bastard look in his eyes and kept insisting he'd go find them later, once a decision had been made. 

Rick was about to learn what the word 'stubborn' actually meant. 

"Ace, I will go find them. I will. But-" 

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to unleash the swirl of Dixon temper and hormones that was inside, when the gate creaked opened again. You let out a breath of relief when the three of them walked through looking pissed off but generally unharmed, and then the anger swelled back up. 

"The fuck do you two think you're doing?" you demanded as they got close. 

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek and looked at Rick instead of you. "Tried to kidnap Eugene. He puked on Rosita and got away." 

That gave you just enough of a pause that Shane leaned in and kissed your cheek. "Sorry, sweetheart. Should have left you a note, but Darlene over here said 'let's go, it'll only take a minute'." 

"Fuck off, Dickhead," Daryl muttered. 

You took half a step and socked your brother in the jaw without a word. He didn't stagger or anything because you hadn't put much force behind it, but he lifted a hand to his jaw and nodded. 

"Fair enough, sis. Sorry, Walsh. Shoulda left ya note, like he said," Darrie added, touching your arm briefly in apology. 

You sighed. "Yeah, you should have. It's fine. Rick, now that these two idiots are back-" 

"Am I gonna get punched too if I ask why you're wearin' a vest?" Shane interrupted. 

You speared him with a look as Maggie and Michonne covered laughs with mutual coughing fits. "No, Shanizzle, you're not, but only because we have bigger fish to fry. I was coming to look for you two morons. Rachel over there decided this was more important."

Your stabbing gesture at the map went largely unnoticed as Darrie burst into laughter along with Michonne and Maggie. You flipped your brother off and closed your eyes, trying to leash the goddamn Dixon temper back where it belonged. 

"Rachel, huh? Really pissed her off, didn't you, brother?"

"Fuck you," you snapped at Shane before Rick could respond. 

"I mean, I hope so, but later, Slugger," he said dryly. 

Rick made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, as your eyes shot open to glare at Shane, but- 

Well, shit, that had been a good one. You sighed and shook your head, fighting the laughter like everyone else, and your temper drained away. "Goddam it," you said mildly. "Dwight sent a message. About their plans." 

That certainly got Shane and Daryl's attention. 

Judy lifted the empty cup to your lips and you made the appropriate slurping noise. She beamed at you and you kissed her nose. 

Gracie turned her head at the noise in the hall and almost ripped the bottle out of her mouth, and you sighed as you shifted her to get her attention back to you. She latched back on to it greedily, and you accepted an offered fake cookie before finally looking up at the person leaning silently in the doorway. 

"I'm going, Shane," you said calmly. "We argued it to death already." 

"I know." He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching you and the kids. Judy grabbed a cup and ran to him, and he dropped into a crouch to slurp from it as well. "Mmm! That's good, darlin'!" 

Judy pushed her long curls from her eyes as she stared into Shane's eyes solemnly. "Cookies. Ace helped." 

"Did she?" 

Judy nodded, grabbed Shane's hand, and dragged him into the room. He smiled at you as he sat where Judy gestured, and picked up rough the cardboard circle Judy placed on a plate in front of him. He glanced at you in amusement as he took a pretend bite. 

You half-shrugged. Decorating pretend cookies with her had been fun. "They're chocolate chip." 

"'Oclate," Judy agreed. 

"They're delicious," Shane assured her. He met your eyes seriously. "You sure?" 

You nodded. "I have to. I can't wait behind. I need to see this through." 

"Yeah. I know," Shane agreed. "We’ll head out first thing tomorrow. I've gotta help with some stuff for it." 

"You need to go right now?" 

He looked at the pile of cardboard circles and the crayons scattered over the floor. "No," he said with a smile, scooting around to lean against the rocker you occupied. You shifted Gracie so you could set your hand on his shoulder, and he tipped his head back against your knee. "Not right now. I want another cookie first." 

Judy giggled. 

For all your confident and ok, stubborn response to Shane, you were worried. You were worried about going with them. You were worried about staying behind. You were worried about the information Dwight had sent you and whether or not it was genuine. 

You'd told Rick bluntly that you had to trust someone, sometimes, but… Despite everything you'd told your brother and Tara, you didn't trust him. You just couldn't bring yourself to hate him anymore. 

Most of all, you realized, you were worried about the babies. You couldn't fucking- it kept you reeling, every time you thought about it. They were Shane's. And they were they. 

You, Ace Dixon, the broken one who couldn't have kids and so wasn't good for more'n a quick lay anyway- you were having fucking twins. And yes, Daryl, you knew that was your daddy talking and not you, and you didn't believe it for a minute. But it was still mind-boggling. 

When Carl came in to play with Judy and told you to 'go outside and draw something, Aunt Ace, you look stressed', you shot him a mock glare, batted the brim of his hat down over his eye, and went wandering out. You were restless, it was true. You wished you could open your stomach like a window and take a peek at the babies, and there was an interesting art idea but you didn't have any pastels handy here so- 

You changed direction abruptly and headed for the medical trailer. Siddiq and the others had been overwhelmingly grateful for the little you'd done during and after the battles, especially when they realized that Dr. Dana had been among the walkers. You'd dismissed all of that, because honestly, you hadn't done anything but follow Siddiq around and follow orders. 

Shane had joked that it was a rarity for you. You'd flipped him off. 

As it was, you knew you'd be welcomed in there, and probably indulged when it came to needing to see your little miracles. At first, you thought the trailer was completely empty when you came in, and then you smiled. 

Maggie half-lay on one of the beds, her shirt hiked up on her stomach, and the wand positioned on her bare skin. She watched the screen with a look you found all too familiar, and you cleared your throat in the doorway. 

"Sorry," you said softly when she looked up. "I can go." 

Maggie smiled. "No, stay. You alright? Need Siddiq? I asked them to give me some space." 

"No, I'm- well, I'm here for the same reason you are," you admitted, wandering in to sit beside her. 

On the screen, you saw her and Glenn's pancake, and you stared for a minute. "Maggie, how the hell are we gonna do this?" 

"The fight? We've got a plan, and-"

You shook your head and she cut off. "No. This. Babies. Maggie, I'm-" You half-laughed, leaning back in the chair as you drew your knees up. "I'm terrified." 

"I know," Maggie agreed softly. "Me too. That's why I'm in here, doin' this." 

"I'm not a mom," you whispered. "I killed my baby, and I wasn't supposed to get a second chance." 

"Of course you're a mom. Look at Judith. Look at Gracie. Hell, look at Carl," Maggie said, rolling her eyes. "Ace, you've been a mom since Judy was born." 

"That's not the same," you protested. "It's really not." 

"It is, but it's not exactly the same." She sighed, reaching for your hand. "You'll do it one day at a time. Same as I will. And we'll do it together." 

You stared at her baby on the monitor, the one Glenn should have been sitting here with her to dote over, and once again wondered how this woman was so goddamn strong. "Am I making a mistake, going tomorrow? I could lose them. I could lose them so easy, and I don't think I'd ever get over that. They're- they're Shane's." 

"I know." Maggie sighed, blew a kiss at the monitor, and set the wand back. She grabbed a towel and wiped off her stomach, then stood and gestured you toward the bed. "I'm scared too. Especially of losing it. Him? Her? This one." 

You ignored her gesture until she pointed sternly. You hesitated, but- you needed to see them. Maggie grabbed the wand for you, and then there they were. Two blurs on a blurry screen, and they had you caught up in a wave of terror and love all at once. 

"We have to go," Maggie said quietly. "At least I do. We won't be alone though. We'll watch over each other, and Shane and Daryl will watch over us too." 

"Until I'm ready to scream," you agreed dryly. "Maggie. I'm so glad we're in this together." 

She squeezed your hand. "Me too. So. Have you thought about names yet?" 

"What? I just found out there's two of them, and they're not Negan's!" You shot her a wild look. "Honestly, I've been calling it- them- I thought they were one, and I was calling it 'the demonspawn' in my head!" 

You scowled when Maggie started laughing so hard she cried, but a minute later you were laughing too. Two minutes after that, you were both sobbing. 

When you got yourselves together, you smiled at her. "I'm not alone. Maggie, I know it's not the same, but neither are you. I promise." 

She sniffed and smiled back. "I know." 

You and Maggie cried and laughed for awhile, and then you did something stupid. It wasn't really sneaking out, you told yourself guiltily. Several people saw you leave. 

And you put on the vest and went armed to the teeth, just in case, and you weren't looking for trouble. Just privacy, and height. 

The radio would be returned, so it wasn't stealing, it was borrowing. Without advance permission. Rick would be fine. 

On the roof, you settled comfortably on the wall, legs dangling, and faced the general direction of the Sanctuary. You took a deep breath and hit the button. "Negan."

"We're all Negan, darlin', gonna have to be more specific." 

You didn't recognize the voice that answered, and you rolled your eyes as you responded. "The Negan. It's Ace. I'll wait." 

It didn't take long. "Hello, princess. Ready to come home? Got Rick there with you? Why don't you put him on." 

"Shut up," you said mildly. "This isn't about Rick. It's about me. And you." 

"Heard what happened. I am sorry. That baby was a new beginning." 

And damned if he didn't sound it, you thought with a sigh. Which is why you were giving this last-ditch effort a try. "I'm not talking about that. Negan. Why can't you let this go?" 

"This wasn't my idea, Slugger. You know that. I did not start this." 

"Do you think you have to be who you are?" You stared at the clouds as you asked it, not really sure where it was coming from. "You're an asshole. I suspect you were even before the world up and ended on us. I was a bartender and an artist and a victim." 

"You don't talk about the past." 

You nodded, realized he couldn't see it, and hit the button. "No, not with you. Not when everything I said could be used against the people I love. I'm not any of those things anymore, except the artist. See, my daddy- my daddy told me once that I wasn't good for more than a quick fuck, and no man would want me because I couldn't give him sons." 

"Your dad's a bastard, princess." 

"Oh, I know. He's not important, though. What I'm saying is, do you think you have to be this person you've created? This- this man with the leather jacket and the bat and the attitude? The dictator who rules through fear and violence? We can always recreate ourselves. Fuck knows, I did." 

There was a pause, and you thought he wouldn't respond again. That was fine. This wasn't about him, any more than it was about Rick, really. It was about you doing something you needed to do. Then the radio clicked and hissed. 

"What are you getting at, Slugger?" 

"Is this really what you want?" you asked honestly. "Do you want to be this person? Carl got me thinking, when he was talking to you on the wall. That night. Is this who- and what- you want to be?" 

Quiet again. You played with ideas for sketching this view, but it wasn't serious. Finally you sighed. "Fine. Don't answer me if you don't want to. The point is- it's not too late. Even if you beat us, there'll just be someone else to fight. You could give peace a try. Rick's pissed, but- well, I could bring him around." 

"There's no getting out of this now, princess. You might have had a chance, when you carried my baby. But that- that is gone now. I wouldn't accept your surrender if you came to me on your knees. See, winning isn't about beating you. Winning is about killing every last one of you. Including you, Ace. Because I think you might be the most dangerous one of them all." 

You rolled your eyes. "You're an asshole. You don't want me dead." 

"I don't. I want you in my bed. See, I didn't want any of this. Rick made this happen. Rick and the Widow and your Dickhead. You tell him that, princess. No more talk." 

"Men," you muttered. Into the radio, you tried one last time. "It doesn't have to be like this. It never did." 

He didn't respond, and you watched the clouds in peace before you headed back home. 

Shane and Darrie started yelling at you as soon as you climbed from the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof yall the end of the year hittin hard, am I right?


	74. Lie #74: "He's Batshit Crazy." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

The thing about waiting was, Shane fucking sucked at it. He always had, even on the force with Rick. He'd been the first one in gear, the first one in the car, the first one moving. He'd always hated hurrying up and waiting. 

He was hurrying up and waiting. 

Dwight might have given them shit information. He might be telling the truth. Slugger seemed to think he was, and Shane trusted his girl, but he didn't fucking trust Dwight. Knowing he'd killed Merle in an effort to keep Ace safe and spare them both pain hadn't really changed anything, though he thought it might have for her. 

But the plan, such as it was outlined by Dwight and by that fucker Gregory, seemed solid. It seemed reasonably likely, and they certainly couldn't just it on the information. Not when it looked like Negan was trying to surround them, cut them off from any supplies, and starve them out. 

That shit would work entirely too well for Shane's comfort. Or Rick's, or Maggie's, or anyone else's. And they were straining Hilltop enough, having all three of the communities here. 

He agreed with Dwight on one thing. It was time to end this. 

If they would ever fucking leave. 

The only thing curbing his impatience was Slugger, calmly checking the rounds in her Glock and her rifle, face composed and movements relaxed under the vest she'd strapped on without hesitation. Shane knew damn well she was neither composed nor relaxed, and he still had some very pointed words he wanted to say to her about her little adventure on her own earlier. Running around by herself, right now, with everything going on and while she was pregnant? Shit, Shane had been damn near shaking with the effort to not start yelling his head off at her about shit. Especially when she said she'd been talking to goddamn Negan. 

Sometimes he thought she had just as much of a damn hero complex as he did. 

He wondered if Maggie knew how nervous she was. Or if anyone did, really. He wasn't sure, but when her brother stopped by her side, she scowled up at him before they both burst out laughing and Dixon ran a hand casually down her arm. 

When she shoved her gun in the holster and her hand through her hair, she actually did look relaxed and confident. Shane shifted restlessly and glared at Rick. 

"Calm down, 22. We leave in ten," Rick said without looking up. 

Shane ground his teeth together and kept hurry up and waiting. 

He figured the only reason he didn't totally lose his shit was Morgan did it for him, and even more spectacularly than Shane himself could have done. All Shane could say for the incident was that at least Carol moved fucking fast and at least it got them moving. The kid was fine, Maggie defended the prisoners, and Rick made what Shane considered a concerning call when he opted to let Morgan come with them despite the hefty dose of crazy juice he'd clearly been drinking. 

But at least they were moving. Finally. 

Of course, now he was more concerned about Maggie and Slugger, neither of whom should have been there, but who had their heads together whispering as they watched Saviors set up the road block with a daisy chain of the dead. 

Shane wondered how much of it was Ace wanting to know where that one bastard had gotten his hair dye. The blue was fading from hers, and she had it tucked up under a hat right then anyway to keep it from being seen. 

He wished to hell this was over and they were back home, so he could pull that hat off her head and tangle his hands in her hair. 

"Probably wants to know where the fucker got the dye." 

Shane didn't jump, but he had to admit it was a close thing. He glanced over at Daryl and caught the flash of amusement in Dixon's eyes before he went back to staring at the Saviors and waiting for the signal. "Yeah. They're hanging back, right? Think they'll listen?" 

"Yeah. They will." Daryl tossed hair from his face and shifted, just as restless as Shane for all the man's patience in the woods. "She promised. Made Maggie get in on it too. I got an eye on 'em." 

"Same here. Keep an eye on yourself. Something…" Shane trailed off, not able to put what he was thinking into words. 

Daryl snorted. "Yeah. Same. Aight, Rick's ready. Let's do this." 

It took somewhere along the lines of thirty seconds. They dropped the living with one concentrated burst of fire, then slipped through the half-set road block and made sure they'd gotten them all. 

Shane watched impassively as Morgan took the lone survivor down. He didn’t give a damn. 

"Good people. Found something on our quarry." 

Ace's hand slipped into his and she leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes troubled even though her voice was light. "He talks pretty." 

"He's batshit crazy," Shane muttered to her as they picked their way around to Ezekiel. 

"I don't think so," Ace said slowly. "I think he's far saner than some of us. He made a choice, and turned himself into someone new. Someone this world needed. What'd you find?" 

Shane eyed her a little sideways as they joined the others, but he figured whatever that little moment had been, they could talk about it later. Ezekiel handed a folded map to Rick, and Shane leaned over his partner's shoulder. 

"A list and another map. And what appear to be other facts," Ezekiel said grimly. 

"They're lining up Saviors on Old Mill Road. That's where Negan will be." 

Carol sighed. "We need to get to him before he figures out what happened here."

Rick nodded, glanced at Shane, and Shane pulled out his radio. Change in plans. 

Rick glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but Shane was ignoring his partner. They'd already done all the on the fly planning they could, and Shane was down to silently stressing about what they might have forgotten and what else he could do to maybe convince his girl and Maggie to just turn around and go home. He knew it wasn't going to happen, which is why he was ignoring Rick's side-long glance and watching Slugger's animated gestures instead. 

She and Jesus walked together, Jesus watching her with the kind of amused intent that Shane knew too damn well. He wasn't jealous, obviously. There was nothing to be jealous of, and he knew it. But Ace made a gesture, then paused and stretched her arms out to either side, like- well, like Jesus on the cross- and their Jesus started laughing so hard Shane thought tears would come into his eyes. Slugger started laughing too, and they were half-leaning on each other as they walked. 

"You still don't like him, do you?" Rick asked dryly. 

"Who? Jesus? I like him just fine." 

Rick snorted. "You don't like how much Ace likes him." 

"Slugger can like whoever she likes, man. She's describing the painting she wants to do. Probably gonna have to build her a damn church so she can hang it," he muttered. "Sacrilegious as hell, brother." 

"Oh, I have no doubt," Rick agreed. "And she'll get him to do it." 

"He's enough of a shithead, he'll think it's awesome. So. What is it?" 

"What is what?" Rick asked. 

It was Shane's turn to scoff. "Come on, man. You're worried about something in particular. What is it?"

"I'm worried about everything," Rick admitted softly. "Leaving Carl back there. Bringing Maggie and Ace with us. Negan. Is this a trap?" 

"Probably," Shane said bluntly. "Do we have another choice?" 

He didn't take his eyes off Slugger, still laughing with Jesus as she described her ideas, hands moving in the air like she was already painting it. Rick didn't say anything, and Shane nodded. 

No, they didn't have a choice. They had to end this. He had to end this. For her, if for no one else. 

It took her longer than normal; Shane had to give her that. It was probably the fact that he hadn't seen her in over two months, and had barely talked to her while he was up at Langley for training. She'd missed him as much as he'd missed her, it seemed, and he actually held her attention for two solid hours while they wandered Atlanta and talked shit to each other. 

But with Slugger, it was inevitable. He saw the moment it caught her eye, and he grinned behind the handful of fries he was waving as he talked, falling silent just to see if she'd notice. 

She stared at the building through four fries and two of her corn nuggets, then she wrenched her eyes away right as he lifted a third and scowled. "Hey!" 

Shane laughed harder than he had in two months, and she grabbed his hand and hauled his burger to her own mouth to steal a bite in retaliation. He didn't fucking mind, too busy laughing at the sheer affront in her voice and the fact that she had no idea how long she'd stared or that her eyes kept straying back that way. 

"Wait, did you finish-" she mumbled unclearly around the mouthful of his burger. 

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "Swallow before you choke." 

"Dirty, Officer Walsh," she fired back, and grinned when he shook his head with a sigh. "Finish your story. Go on." 

"Alright," he said, watching her in amusement as her eyes swept the street and returned to the building. She'd finished her corn nuggets and Shane was done with the fries, so he tossed both and steered her across the street and started ambling toward the source of her distracted fixation. It was inevitable; might as well get on with it. "So, where was I? Oh, yeah. Julie, the instructor, she had us practicing these break holds, right? Like so if someone were to get hold of my gun-" 

"Shane, please," Ace muttered demurely. She widened her eyes when he shot her a confused glance. "Dirty." 

He flipped her off casually and paused for a bite, right in front of the building that had caught her attention so badly. Her eyes wandered it, and in half a second her hand was moving at her side. 

He grinned, finished the last bite, and tossed the wrapper. "Slugger, just tell me what you see already before your brain explodes." 

"What?" Her tone was only half-there, but she blinked and focused on him. "What are you- oh, this wall is just… I can almost…" 

He settled against the very wall she meant, and watched her eyes light up as she pointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses except
> 
> f*ck 2020, ya know?


	75. Lie #75: "It's Not Really Something We Should Get Into Right Now" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> domestic violence/abuse

You froze and stared with everyone else at the massive herd. The others seemed distressed about the size of it, all those walkers shambling together in a river of death clearly visible from the ridge you'd gained, but all you could see was the art. 

Imagine it in oils, you thought semi-desperately. All the layers of bright autumn color, and that river of death cutting through it all. Imagine it. 

You wanted to paint it so bad. 

"Ever seen one that big?" Jerry asked. 

You liked the teddy bear ax man, and you had plans for him and Ezekiel after this was over and someone found you more paint, but you couldn't tear your eyes from the scene. You could see where you'd have to start, what steps would need to be taken, and you were doing your damndest to memorize the thing so you could recreate it all later. 

"No," Shane said grimly, coming up behind you. He ran his hand down your back and you leaned into him, his arm sliding around to rest over your stomach. "You're painting it, aren't you? Come back to here and now, sweetheart. We got shit to do still." 

"But look at it, Dickhead," you whispered. "Look at the colors and the light and-" 

"And the commentary on the fall of humanity and our decaying civilization and morality, set against the still-thriving backdrop of fall. It probably gives you some sense of hope that everything'll come back in the spring. I know. But not right now." 

You blinked and turned in his arms to stare at him. He wasn't even looking at the herd; he was looking ahead to where you were going, eyes worried. You pressed a kiss to the hard line of his clenched jaw and his lips twitched up in a slight smile. "You were listening!" 

"To you? Always," he said softly. "Art later." 

"Fight now," you agreed. "Things are changing." 

"How much further?" Daryl asked, bumping into the two of you with his shoulder as he started moving again. "Gotta get goin' before these two get too damn cozy." 

"Fuck you, Darrie," you said pleasantly. 

He grinned over his shoulder as Ezekiel chuckled and gestured dramatically. "We grow closer. Yonder, over that ridge." 

"God, he talks pretty," you muttered. 

Shane snorted and nudged you back into motion when your eyes strayed to the herd below. "I know. Keep moving, sweetheart." 

A little while later you squeezed Shane's hand and headed up to your brother. "Hey." 

He glanced at you and grunted, but didn't say anything else. You shouldn't say anything to him right then and you knew it, but keeping what Dwight had told you about Merle from Darrie wasn't sitting right with you. When you realized you were chewing on your thumbnail as you internally debated, you grimaced and forced yourself to stop. 

"We need to talk later," you told your brother in a low voice. "It's about Dwight." 

Darrie's eyes cut to you, going cool. "What about him?" 

"It's not really something we should get into right now, but-" 

The whistling echoed in from all around. 

You had the goddamn rifle to your shoulder and didn't remember putting it there. In the seconds after the first whistle, you found yourself with Darrie at your back and Shane at your side, grim look in his eyes as he scanned the ridge like the rest of you. 

Darrie shivered as the whistle came again, and then Negan's voice came, over a loudspeaker and less than amused. 

"Well, damn Rick, look at that. Pegged again. Pegged so very hard!" 

"You stay with me," Shane murmured urgently. "Slugger, you gotta do that. You stay right here on me, you hear me?" 

"I hear you. Dickhead-" 

"No," he snapped. "You stay with me." 

"I ambushed your ambush with an even bigger ambush!" You could picture him, leaning against a truck, gesturing with Lucille, that asshole smile on his lips and the delight in his eyes. Negan loved this shit; loved showing everyone just how big, how bad, how smart he was. 

God, he was such an asshole. 

"How about you step out here and face us!" Rick yelled back. 

"Oh, I am everywhere, Rick. More bullhorns, more walkies. Pick a direction to run. See how you do. Make it fun for all of us!"

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and looked at Rick. "What do we do, brother?" 

Rick stared up the ridge as the radio clicked again. 

Negan's voice was background noise, talking and you didn't care who to. You were fighting with the piece, fighting with the emotions that swirled throughout it, blending longing and anger with green-gold-sunlight and shadow. It didn't want to come together into something you understood, but you didn't care. It had to. 

Eventually the trees and the shadows and the dead all bent to your will, like everything did when you had a brush in your hand and a blank white field in front of you. You sat back with a sigh, exhausted and stiff from being hunched over for an unknown length of time. You knew it had been awhile; you just didn't know how long. 

"You finish it?" 

You nodded, eyes closed, and rotated your neck with your head down, trying to work out the kinks. There was rustling, then a glass of water appeared on the table and Negan's fingers started kneading at your neck. You went tense, but then he hit the right spot, and he wasn't trying anything else. Just working on what was stiff. 

"You were painting for a couple of hours. Snarled at it a couple of times, hummed a lot," he said quietly. "Slapped my hand and flipped me off when I tried to ask you a question." 

You opened your eyes and frowned at the table, but didn't lift your head. He'd found a knot in your shoulder and was actually doing a damn good job on it. "I don't remember that. Sorry. Dickhead always jokes that he's risking a punch if he breaks my concentration. That's pretty true. I don't like being touched unexpectedly." 

Negan made a small noise at that, interested but not asking for more. "Drink your water, darlin'. You need it. Then we'll get some dinner." 

You eyed him as you sipped. "Why are you being nice to me?" 

"You're my wife," he said with a shrug, running his fingers down your cheek. "I'm always nice to my wives." 

"You're an asshole to your wives," you countered dryly, but you picked up the water. 

Negan winked and smiled. "Sometimes."

Mal had his arm around you, warm and heavy as you leaned into his side on the couch. He was watching something on tv and you were doodling absently, not really paying attention to what your hands were doing as you enjoyed a tired evening together in. 

There'd been so many damn parties lately, what with the album deal and everything, and you'd been beyond pleased when he'd asked if you could just spend some time together, the two of you. You'd cooked- pasta night- and he'd had you laughing your ass off with stories from the record company and the band trying to get their shit together. Imagining Greg in a suit and tie, trying not to drop the f bomb in every sentence, had been enough to have both of you trying not to choke laughing too hard to eat correctly. 

Mal trailed his fingers over your arm as you sketched, chuckling at whatever he was watching. You thought it was a sitcom of some sort, but honestly you didn't give much of a shit. You were tired from yesterday's shift still, and you'd been on the street today doing commission work for most of the afternoon. It was almost finished too, and- 

"That what you were working on today?" 

You blinked at your sketchbook and the fairy in a forest you'd ended up with there. She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes mysterious behind gossamer wings, and her fingers lingered on a tree trunk invitingly. 

"No," you said, tipping your head back to smile up at Mal. "I don't know who she is. The piece today was pop art." 

"Yeah? You don't do that much." Mal sounded interested, shifting toward you in that subtle way you loved that said you had his full attention. 

You flipped to a new page, hand moving rapidly again. He didn't listen to you nerd out about art much anymore, so you were smiling as you talked. "Yeah, I'm pretty excited about it actually. It's down at Cosmic Comics, you know- that little place out on Honeysuckle, near that one bar Jason recommended that Shane and I went to and they put fuckin' pineapple juice in their Old Fashioned and I was like 'who the hell does that'?" 

You finished the rough sketch in sudden silence, the pause not registering as you finished the last lines. "There. This is basically what I was doing today. I have to finish the colors and add some, like, thick lines and shit to give it that-" 

Mal snatched the sketchbook you held up to him from your hands and flung it across the room, and just like that, you couldn't breathe. You sat up straight, turning to face him on the couch as you folded your hands around the pencil you held in a death grip. His eyes had gone hard and pinched, and you licked your lips before speaking carefully. 

"That was rude." 

"So is throwing that asshole in my face. Damn it, Ace. I'm so sick of hearing Shane this, Shane that, and-" 

"Guess what else I did, Rick?" Negan's voice dropped almost to a purr, cat-in-the-cream tone full of lazy satisfaction that made you grit your teeth and think about slapping him, just once. "I brought you some of your old friends. Remember your old buddy Eugene? Well, he is the person who made today possible! Same goes for Dwighty-boy here!" 

Darrie's scoff came from behind you, but you knew that tone. You knew Negan's voice like you'd learned Mal's or Will's, and that tone wasn't good for your sort-of ally. 

"In case you were wondering, he didn't ream you on purpose," Negan went on. "No, he is just a- a gutless nothin' that sucks at life, and now, now he gets to stand up here and watch you all die, and he gets to live with that." 

"Nope," you muttered, adjusting your grip on the gun in your hands as you scanned the ridge again. It was going to be soon, whatever the fuck was going to happen. "Not today, asshole." 

"Gabriel? Well, he's gotta go too. We are cleaning house today, Rick. And then…. There's you." Negan sounded tired and sad, and you heard an echo of some of your more civil conversations with him. An echo of why you'd attempted to get him to back off. "It never had to be a fight. You just had to accept how things are. Then I wouldn't have to kill you or the Widow. Dickhead, Daryl, and my princess there. You did this. You could have just accepted it, but… here we go."

Shane reached on hand for yours, fingers brushing yours and squeezing without him turning his had. You squeezed back, leaning into Darrie's back against yours as well. It was the best the three of you could do, what with everything that was clearly about to go down. You could feel it in the air as Negan sighed over the radio. 

"Congratulations, Rick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this year over yet? Thanks for hanging in here with me, guys. XOXO


	76. Lie #76: "It's Nothing, Ok? You're Fine. You're Fine." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence

They were done for. He knew it deep in his soul, and a glance at his brother showed the same conviction lingering in the grim set of Rick’s jaw. There was no getting out of this one, Shane thought as Saviors appeared on three sides of them, on the high ground at the top of the ridge. 

They were fucked, and they were all about to die. 

He tuned out the asshole and slapped Dixon’s shoulder, making eye contact with Slugger’s brother and hoping he could come up with some kind of miracle. From the caged-animal look in Daryl’s eyes, he knew how fucked they were as well. 

Slugger had the rifle up to her shoulder and a rock-steady gaze up the ridge at her targets, and Shane felt the first stirrings of genuine despair. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t keep her safe; couldn’t get her and their babies out of this one. He’d have to rely on that bat-swinging bastard to not kill her outright, and that was an even worse prospect than her dying here with the rest of them.

His mind was whirling, desperation driving him as he hunted for something, anything, that would get her out of this, and-

Their guns exploded.

Shane stared, mind not registering what he was seeing for a split second. He’d been tuning the bastard out, and in the half-second he figured out that the Saviors were raining holy fire down on them, something went wrong. Or it went right, he thought wildly. Rick screamed what sounded like ‘now’, and Shane charged ahead with everyone else as Saviors lay clutching their hands and faces and screaming.

“Eugene!” Ace yelled wildly. She fired off a couple of shots as they charged the ridge, and Shane jerked when the Savior who came out of nowhere in front of him dropped. “Shane, Eugene did this!” 

“What?” He demanded, slamming the butt of his gun into someone’s face. “What?” 

“The bullets! Eugene- oh fuck.” 

Her deadpan had him spinning in a panic, but Daryl beat him to her. Then he was busy covering his own ass, and when he looked around for her again his heart fucking stopped. 

He didn’t see her. He didn’t see her or Maggie or Daryl, but he did see Rick’s back charging down out of view. He was fucking torn, but his brother would just have to figure this shit out on his own. Shane’s pregnant woman was somewhere in this mess and-

“Dickhead!” 

He started breathing again when she appeared at his side, blood splashed over her face and light in her eyes. Daryl came with her, tossing hair from his eyes with a nod Shane’s way. Ace grabbed his sleeve and started after Rick. 

“Come on! Negan went this way and Rick’s following him.” Ace’s words were practically tripping over each other, she was talking so rapidly. “Maggie’s accepting surrenders. It’s pretty much over already, as long as Rick got him and- holy hell.” 

She stopped abruptly and Shane did too, Daryl on his heels almost ramming into him with a mumbled curse. Shane muttered a foul word of his own and grabbed at his gun, but Rick stood in front of Negan. There was no clean shot. “I gotta- Slugger, I gotta-“

He fumbled his gun back into his holster, getting ready to wade in hand to hand and help Rick, who had clearly been getting his fucking ass beat. Didn't matter that the two of them were faced off, not saying a word and not throwing any punches either; Shane needed to help. Needed to end this bullshit once and for all. Daryl grabbed his arm even as Ace’s hand latched on his like a vice, her gasp cutting through the silence as Rick lashed out.

The glint of sun on glass in his hand was Shane’s only clue. Negan staggered, eyes going wide as he lifted his hands to his throat, mouth opening and closing as he went to his knees. 

Shane heard what sounded like “fuck” whispered by Slugger, and then something he never expected to hear.

Rick turned away as Negan fell to the ground, dropping the shard of glass from his own bleeding hand, and his brother’s voice sounded wrong. “Save him.” 

"Officer down! Officer down!" 

Blood pounded in his ears as it flowed over his hands, pressed to his best friend's chest as he fought the pull of panic to try to remember what the fuck they were trained to do in this situation. It was a gunshot, and Shane thought about how he'd unloaded on the bastard that did it, the third man dispatch hadn't mentioned and they hadn't seen, but making him dead wouldn't keep Rick fucking alive if Shane didn't do something and the ambulance didn't get here right fucking now.

"Stay with me. Come on Rick, stay with me brother. It's nothing, ok? You're fine. You're fine," he babbled at Rick, watching the way his partner's eyes were rolling and knowing Rick was about to pass the fuck out. He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, just that it would be better if Rick stayed conscious and- "Get a fucking ambulance!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Officer down! No, no, brother, come on, don't you do this to me- Rick!" 

Rick's eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone, passed out and limp under Shane's blood-stained hands. 

He saw Maggie from the corner of his eye, but it was Ace he grabbed for. Maggie screamed 'no' at the top of her lungs, and Shane didn't exactly disagree there, but his girl slipped her hand from his and took off after Siddiq. 

Rick didn't fucking move as they both went to their knees beside Negan's body, and Shane stared as Ace's hands turned red where they pressed against Negan's throat. 

His hands had been red before, red with Rick's blood and Carl's blood and Ace's blood, red with the blood of countless dead on the road between Atlanta and here, but it was Ace's hands he stared at it. Ace's hands as she nodded grimly to whatever Siddiq was muttering, her face intense as she joined the doctor she'd helped Carl rescue in trying to save a man Shane hated more than he'd hated anyone except that bastard Hall. 

Maggie was still screaming, and Shane shoved his hand through his hair as he finally tore his eyes away from Ace and Negan and Siddiq to give his partner the 'what the fuck' look he'd truly earned. What the fuck was Rick thinking? He wondered. Had he lost his fucking mind? Had Negan hit him in the head one too many times with that goddamn bat? 

Rick met his eyes with that stubborn-bastard look full in his face and Shane sighed. It was over then. Whatever Rick was thinking, that was it. That was all. It was going to fucking happen, they would save fucking Negan, no matter how badly Shane or Maggie or Daryl wanted him dead. 

Only question Shane had now was fucking why. 

"No! No, he can't! No! He killed Glenn!" Maggie's voice sounded hoarse already, ripping at Shane's heart as she struggled in Michonne's arms. 

"We have to," Rick said, turning half-away. 

In that moment, Shane hated his best friend a little. He didn't know why Rick had decided they had to, but it wasn't that. It was Rick turning away from all that pain, all that heartache. Didn't he remember what he was like after Lori died? He was robbing Maggie of her revenge, and he should damn well stare her in the eyes as he told her why. 

Shane shot Rick a glare and went to Maggie, taking her from Michonne as she slumped and started crying. "I got you. Maggie, come on. Listen to him, please." 

"No! We have to end it! Rick!" Maggie clung to him even as she screamed, tears sliding down her face, and Shane shifted so he could hold on to her and keep an eye on Slugger and Siddiq at the same time. "We have to make it right!" 

"We can't make it right, but this makes it over," Michonne said softly. 

Shane snorted even as Maggie shook her head violently. "It's not over until he's dead! Please. It's not over until he's dead!" 

"She's right, brother," Shane called to Rick. 

His best friend met his eyes then, and there was question in them, but Rick had made up his mind and Shane knew it. 

"What happened, what we did. What we lost," Rick said softly, staring at the ground as he walked up the ridge, toward the line of Saviors with their hands still held in the air in surrender. "There's got to be something after." 

Shane tightened his grip on Maggie and she collapsed into him as Rick passed them, no longer screaming but still weeping like her heart was broken. Shane thought about her, clinging sweaty and pale to his hand in the line up, and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. 

He should kill Negan for her. And he would have, right then, with the gun at his side, but- 

Slugger had blood up to her elbows as she held a suture kit steady for Siddiq. 

"The ones who have them up, put your hands down. We're all going to go home now. Negan's alive," Rick said, his voice steadying and slipping into speech mode. Shane's teeth ground together as he stroked Maggie's hair and watched Ace fight to keep a man she hated alive. 

"But his way of doing things is over. And anyone who can't live with that will pay the price, I promise you that. And any person here who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground… This world is yours, by right. We are life. That's death! And it's coming for us, unless we stand together!" 

Shane didn't have to look to know Rick had pointed to the river of the dead far down below, the one Ace wanted to paint so bad she'd started sketching into the air on the ridge. He didn't have to look to know Rick's shoulders would be squared and his stubborn-bastard expression would be firmly in place, so he didn't. 

"So go home. And then the work begins. The new world begins," Rick said softly. "All this- all this is just what was. There's gotta be something after." 

Daryl's hand touched his shoulder as Dixon squatted down beside him, and Shane nodded. He shifted a little and Maggie latched onto Daryl instead, Ace's twin gathering her up as they all stood. Dixon-blue eyes speared into Shane's full of churning anger, and he nodded as he shoved a hand through his hair. 

Yes, he'd talk to Rick. No, it wouldn't do any good, and they both already knew that. 

Daryl lead Maggie away as Shane started for where Siddiq and Ace still bent over Negan, and he didn't look up when Rick fell in beside him. "Dick move, brother." 

"It's not the wrong one." 

Shane shrugged. "I don't know about that. I think it might be. Be easier to just kill him." 

"Easier isn't always better," Rick countered, voice low and urgent as he gestured with his bleeding hand. 

Shane sighed and bent to grab a bandage from Siddiq's bag. Ace nodded and smiled slightly as Shane met her eyes, and he smiled back briefly. Then he shrugged at Rick again and grabbed his hand, turning it to try to see how bad the damage was. "Look, I'm backing you, but this? This is the wrong call. And doing that to Maggie? Makes you an asshole. Make that shit right, man. The rest of it? I guess we'll find out," he finished softly, looking down at Negan's closed eyes and pale face. 

But for now, Rick was right. It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy y'all! Mini-hiatus and much-needed brain break is over; reality is returning but that means so is my ability to form sentences and paragraphs and chapters and things! Thanks for hanging with me, and congrats to all of us for making it through the dumpster fire that was 2020!


	77. Lie #77: "I Knew Siddiq Couldn't Do It On His Own." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> smuttttttttttttt

Negan's blood covered your hands, and you grimaced at it as it flaked off onto the floor of Jesus' trailer. You started the shower and turned it to Mt. Vesuvius hot, as Dickhead would call it, and pulled your equally-bloody tank top over your head. 

It was over. 

He wasn't dead. Siddiq was a good doctor, and you were a decent enough assistant that you'd helped him, and between the two of you, Negan had lived. It'd be awhile before he could talk, but he'd live. 

Maggie was angry. Darrie was angry, and you wondered if Shane was angry as well. You shed jeans and underwear and stepped beneath the spray with a long sigh, wondering why you weren't angry as well. 

After everything, you should have been pissed as hell at Rick. He'd been saying Negan would die for ages, and then he'd almost done it and changed his mind at the last minute. You should have been furious and demanding Negan's head on a plate the same as Maggie was, but honestly? You didn't care. 

You'd won. Somehow, against the odds, you'd won. 

Eugene had fucked up his bullets on purpose, a change of heart brought on by Father Gabriel's influence, Tanya and Frankie's whispers, and something Rosita had said when she and your idiot brother and the idiot love of your life had tried kidnapping him. Dwight had done his part to keep Negan from killing the father when everything went down, and then had fought on your side and somehow hadn't ended up dead. Laura had surrendered, along with most of the Saviors themselves. 

Negan had sent Saviors here, to the Hilltop, but Carl and Tara had a plan. They'd lead everyone out, and Alden and his fellow prisoners had been prepared to help Tara defend the place from the outside. At the last minute, a group of utterly badass women had arrived to save the day as well. 

You'd already yelled at everyone involved for how they'd treated Oceanside, then asked Cyndie intensely if she'd pose for you. Tara had come to your rescue when Cyndie looked a little wild-eyed and explained that you were an artist, and everyone had enjoyed laughing at your expense for a bit. 

It was over, and there was finally, finally peace. 

"Hey, Slugger- shit, girl, you got it hot enough in there?" 

You scrubbed at the blood now running pale pink from your hands and rolled your eyes. "Maybe. It's been a long day, Dickhead. You coming in, or what?" 

"Am I gonna lose the top three layers of my skin if I do?" 

You didn't dignify that one with a response, but you didn't have to wait long before Shane's arms wrapped around you and he buried his face in your neck. You leaned against him with a long sigh that matched his, closing your eyes as you let the water run down your face. 

"Shit, sweetheart. Thought we were done for today," he whispered against your neck. 

"So did I," you admitted. "I can't believe it's over."

Shane scoffed, finally lifting his head to kiss your cheek. "Not sure it is. Rick made a dumbass call." 

"I wondered if you were mad." 

"Aren't you?" He turned you around so your back was to the spray, taking the bar of soap in his hands and gently scrubbing at what was left of Negan's blood from yours. "I mean, that fucker had you-" 

"I helped save him, Dickhead. Clearly I'm not that mad," you said dryly, not really wanting to think about what had happened between you and Negan. 

Shane's eyes flicked to yours and away. "Yeah. Why'd you do that?" 

You twinned your fingers with his and leaned against him as you pondered how to answer. "I don't entirely know. Rick said 'save him' and I knew Siddiq couldn't do it alone." 

"So let him die. I'm telling you, sweetheart, Rick made the wrong damn call on that one. Should have killed him. It'd be easier." Shane sighed, running the bar of soap absently over your shoulder and gliding it down your back. "Maybe I'll just kill him now and be done with it. Ask forgiveness later." 

"Shane." You grabbed his wrist, stilling his hand as he looked into your eyes. You swallowed hard against the sudden lump in your throat, overwhelmed by everything the two of you had been through and the fact that somehow, you were still here. Standing in a shower, talking to each other, his hands on your skin and water running down your back- you saw that first night in Atlanta, together in your apartment, Dickhead looking at you like he was right now- somehow, you were still here. 

You shook your head and removed the soap from his hand, turning away both to give yourself a moment and to set it safely on the ledge. Goddamn hormones, you thought as your eyes watered. Fucking ridiculous. 

When you looked at him again, he cupped your cheek in his hand and you sighed. "Don't kill him. He's done. It's not what I would have chosen, but don't you see, Dickhead? It's over. We did it, and it's over." 

He looked like he wanted to argue, and you decided that was enough of that. You pressed in against him, body tight on his as you ran your fingers through his hair. His hand on your cheek fell to your neck, fingers digging into your skin lightly as he skimmed his other hand up and down your side. Lips brushing his, you whispered. "It's over, Dickhead. Kiss me." 

"It's over," he murmured in agreement, pulling you closer still with the hand on your neck. "Come here." 

His tongue swept your mouth and you sighed into it, hands gliding over his shoulders and arms to dig your fingers into the muscles he hadn't lost despite the starvation and the lack of gym time. He'd been a self-professed gym rat before the world ended, and he'd complained about the lack of weights one day until you'd looked him dead in the eyes and said 'you can lift me if you want'. 

You wondered if he was thinking about that too as he picked you up effortlessly and set your back against the shower wall. Jesus' trailer wasn't like the ridiculously overdone bathrooms at home, and the shower was more of a closet than a glass-enclosed, tiled masterpiece, but as Shane pressed you against the wall you found a couple of footholds and sort of half-sat on the shallow plastic ledge. It wasn't the most stable of positions, but Shane's hands were warm and solid under your thighs and he wouldn't let you fall. 

Dickhead hadn't let you fall yet, you thought as he kissed his way down your neck. You tilted your head back, one hand gripping his hair and the other tracing patterns in the water droplets on his back, shivering as he bit lightly at your collarbone. "Shane." 

"I've got you," he whispered. "Slugger." 

He leaned his forehead to yours as he buried himself inside you, one smooth, practiced motion that had you shuddering in his arms and clutching his shoulder. He brushed his lips over yours, then went on to feather kisses over your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your closed eyes, lighter than the spray of the shower in your face as he rocked his hips and had you shivering again. 

You knew his body as well, maybe even better, than you knew your own. Years of sketching him, even before you regularly saw him naked, meant every muscle, every twitch, every minute change to his expression was something you knew. You bit your lip and traced his arms as his fingers dug into your thighs; traced his back and over his ass as he thrust into you; traced his face and felt the tightening of his jaw and his eyes as he took what he needed from you. 

You'd draw him like this, over and over and over again, you thought wildly as your breath hitched. Your eyes finally closed, head going back against the shower wall as he took you abruptly over the edge and into oblivion, mumbling his name as you clung to him. 

He kept going, rhythm barely faltering as he whispered in your ear, urging you on, and you leaned into him as your body listened and sent you crashing again. This time Shane shuddered with you, letting go of one of your legs to grab your hair wildly and pull your face from his shoulder so he could claim your mouth with his, and you tasted the shape of your name on his tongue as he fell with you. 

"It's over," he whispered later, rinsing soap from your hair with the now-cold water. "It's over, Slugger." 

Shane made you go to the medical trailer to use the doppler to check on the babies. He tried to insist on a full exam by Siddiq, but you lifted an eyebrow and cracked a joke about him having just done that in the shower and he started laughing so hard he forgot whatever argument he'd been about to make. 

Inside, you found Maggie already there, tears on her face as she stared at the blurry screen. You slipped right back out again without saying anything.

Darrie perched on the picnic table outside Jesus' trailer, hair that really needed to be cut falling in his face as he used a knife to make what would probably be new bolts for the crossbow. You hopped up beside him, swinging your legs lightly as you watched your people moving around the Hilltop. 

Soon enough, work would begin. Alexandria would be rebuilt, the Kingdom would be rebuilt, everyone would split back up and get back to the business of living. You already knew Maggie would stay here, leading the Hilltop with Jesus. Tara seemed attached to the women of Oceanside, and it wouldn't surprise you if she went back with them. Someone would need to spend some time at the Sanctuary, making sure what was left of the Saviors learned how to live in peace and harmony. 

There was a long road ahead, for all of you. 

"Ya aight?" 

You leaned your cheek on Daryl's shoulder, and he automatically tried to jerk you lose. You ignored him. "I'm fine. Are you?" 

"Naw." 

You waited a beat, knowing Darrie would continue if he wanted to. He sighed after a minute and waved his knife expansively. "Why the fuck ya help save his ass?" 

"It was the right thing to do," you said. "You know that." 

"No, I fuckin' don't." 

"It needed to be over. It is. Now we can move forward." You half-shrugged, refusing to move from his shoulder when he jerked again. 

"Would have been over if he was fuckin' dead. Gonna have problems now. And he needed to fuckin' die. Just like that asshole there." 

You followed the jerk of his knife this time and sighed as Dwight walked by with Alden, both of them talking as they carried firewood toward the forge. You still wanted to play with the forge, and get lessons from the blacksmith on how to bend scrap metal to your will, but now was not the time. Especially since you needed to talk to your twin. 

"Darrie," you started, sitting up and picking at your thumb. "We need to talk about Dwight." 

"Ya said that before. Fuckin' Dwight, fuckin' Negan- thought ya hated 'em too, and now-" 

You sighed and shoved a hand through your hair, turning on the picnic table and snatching the knife from his hands as he waved it again. He glared and you glared back, then your eyes filled unexpectedly and you saw the sudden panic in his before everything went blurry. You swiped at the tears and waved him off when he started to speak. "I'm fine. Darrie, I know- I just- fuck."

"Shit, sis, spit it out already," he muttered, the panic in his eyes creeping into his voice. 

"Shut up," you shot back automatically. Then you closed your eyes and sighed. "Darrie, Negan didn't kill Merle." 

"The fuck ya say!" 

You felt him start to jerk to his feet and you reached out blindly for his hand. He gripped back hard, and you knew he was still just as devastated by Merle's absence as you were. 

You were having twins, and your big brother wouldn't be here to see it. 

You shook off that thought, forcing your eyes to open so you could look your own twin in the eyes while you told him this. "Merle was hurt. He'd gotten all kinds of fucked up when everything went wrong. We did the best we could, but there was no choice. He needed medicine, and we didn't have the points, and that fucker Dr. Carson- not the OBGYN, his fuckin' brother- wouldn't bend the goddamn rules even a little. So I- well, I took Sherry's route, and I saw him before- before I went to Negan. Merle, he was- he still didn't look great, but I thought he looked better, and Negan and the doctor were keeping their word. He was being treated." 

"I know all this, sis," Daryl said softly, and you hadn't realized the tears were falling until he reached up and brushed one from your cheek. "Fuckers killed 'im by not treatin' 'im sooner. Ya told me already." 

"But that's not everything, Darrie," you whispered, throat closing. "Dwight, he- he told me, back in the swamp, while you were clearing it. I asked him why he wouldn't let me fuckin' help him, when Tara threw the walker at him. Why he wouldn't accept that he sort of had an ally. He said-" 

You broke off and sniffed, then sighed heavily and shoved your hand through your hair again. "He said he killed my brother. Daryl, stay!" 

He was halfway to his feet, grim death in his expression, and your grip on his hand wouldn't have been enough to hold him in place if he'd really been determined. Apparently the tone of your voice was, because while he stood and stared in D's direction and practically vibrated with the need to kill him right then and there, he didn't move. 

You talked a little faster, knowing you could only hold him back for so long. "Merle asked him to. He asked the doctor first, an' the doc fuckin' refused. He was tryin' to keep me from- from fuckin' Negan. Literally. He was tryin' to keep me out of Negan's bed. Figured if he was outta the picture, I wouldn't have a reason to be one of Negan's wives, an' I could just work until I found a way out. So he told D either D helped, or he did it himself. With a scalpel."

"And that fuckhead just agreed? Jus' like that?" 

You slid from the bench and stepped in front of Daryl, looking dead into eyes just like yours. "Darrie. Doesn't it sound like him?" 

Daryl's face twisted, but he nodded, eyes going to the ground between you instead of driving holes into Dwight. "Yeah. Yeah, it does. Sounds like him before- before all the damn drugs an' before everything got all fucked up, ya know?" 

You couldn't speak through the lump in your throat, so you latched onto your brother instead. He held on tight, and for once, he didn't make any jokes about blubbering, since he was too.


	78. Lie #78: "You Had Not Fallen Asleep, Damn It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

The dead were gone, but somehow that wasn't the most shocking thing about the Sanctuary. 

Shane had fought you- long, hard, and bitterly- about coming here again, and you'd met every argument with your usual calm, implacable logic. You hadn't even called him Shanizzle once, damn it. 

Now he drove- you'd compromised- and you rode in the middle of a pickup with Tara on your other side, the truck bed loaded down with glass panes. It was the first of the small convoy, the first of what might be many, and you had needed to see this. You'd needed to see that this place could be more. 

The dead were gone, and there were green things growing in places where you'd seen bodies and atrocities. 

"It can be more," you whispered as the gate opened. Shane's fingers, twinned with yours, gripped tighter, and you squeezed back. "I told you, Dickhead. It's over." 

Neither Shane nor Tara said anything, but Shane kissed the back of your hand before he let go to turn the wheel and bring the convoy into the courtyard. 

You slid from the truck, Shane hovering at your side, and you wondered if this was harder for him than it was for you. Negan was gone, and this was just a place- clearly a different place than ever before, you marveled as you stared at the potted plants and the laundry line stretching over where there'd been a dumpster full of people parts before. Former Saviors moved around, hardly sparing glances at your or your convoy, and- 

You stopped dead, not sure if you wanted to smile or run away. 

"Hello," you said softly, not turning when Shane's hand came to rest against your back. You could feel his tension, but these two were not a threat. "You look good. Both of you." 

"Ace." 

It was true. Tanya and Frankie both looked good, wearing jeans and flannel shirts and tank tops instead of little black dresses. Tanya had her long brown hair down in loose waves, and you didn't think you'd seen it down before. Frankie's was in a comfortable ponytail, and you wondered if those small changes were as deliberate as they felt. 

Both women stared at you while you stared at them, and finally you sighed and shook your head. "You two in charge now?" 

Frankie shrugged, the movement still elegant. "Not really. No one is exactly in charge, but most of the wives have started organizing things with some of the others. Like-" 

Your jaw dropped when Laura rose from a crouch beside a pot as Tara joined you, because you hadn't recognized her without her scowl and bun so tight it looked fucking painful. "Laura." 

"Ace," she acknowledged. "We're glad you're here." 

"Glad to be here," Tara said when you didn't speak. "I think." 

"Well, we know," Tanya countered. "That you guys?" 

You glanced over at the bus pulling through the gate and nodded. "Yeah. More glass. And more people to help put it back together." 

Frankie lifted one eyebrow. "Are you staying?" 

"Hell no," Shane practically growled. 

Tanya and Frankie both glanced his way as you sighed. "Calm down, Dickhead." 

"Dick- oh. You're Shane," Frankie said softly. "That explains it." 

Shane scoffed, but his arm went from stiff and guarded against your back to curling around your waist. "Yeah, I'm Shane. Slugger-" 

"I'm fine. I promise," you said lightly, leaning into his side as he stared around the courtyard. It was definitely proving harder on him, being here. You looked back at the wives- former wives- and lifted an eyebrow. "Quarters still the same, or-?" 

"Everything's where you left it. And where he left it. You're going to want to go to the bedroom," Frankie said. "He's got some things there you're going to want." 

You grimaced. "Of course. Ok, Tara's in charge of all this. We're just here to get my shit. By the way," you added as you started to lead Shane off. You gave them a long, serious look and nodded. "It looks good on you." 

"What does?" Tanya asked, voice curious. 

"Freedom." 

The wives quarters were harder, but it was still just a place. You paused in the doorway, remembering Negan leaning on the bar and talking shit to Sherry while tense, frightened women did their best to pretend he wasn't in the room, but after that first hesitation, it was just a lounge. Just an overly-opulent space with couches and pillows and sparkling crystal decanters on a polished wet bar. 

You went straight for your room, Shane at your side with his hands in his pockets and a carefully blank expression you recognized. You turned inside your room, stepping into him and taking his face in your hands. "Dickhead. It's just a place. There's nothing here that can hurt me." 

He didn't speak, instead leaning his forehead to yours and pulling you close. You let him hold on, your fingers sliding into his hair until he brushed his lips to yours with a sigh and nudged your hips away from him. "Get moving, sweetheart. Sooner I get you out of here, the better." 

You grabbed a bag from the hook and stared blankly at the backless black dress on the bed. "Fucking asshole," you muttered, and turned away from it to grab the sketchbooks you'd filled while there. 

The art was all you wanted from this place. There were a couple you'd done in particular that you wanted, if Negan hadn't- 

"You ok?" 

"He knew how I felt about the damn scar," you said absently, flipping through the pages to see if what you were looking for was in there or not. "So he gave me a backless dress. Asshole. Shit, of course they're not here. Damn it, now we have to go up there. Just to make sure." 

"Go up where?" 

You stuffed the sketchbooks into the bag with a grimace. "Negan's room. He's probably got the ones I'm looking for up there. God, he's a bastard." 

Shane was giving you a hard look, and you reached for his hand and brushed your lips to his again. "I'm really ok, hero. I promise." 

He didn't say anything to that, but he held your hand and followed you to the stairs. 

Negan had kept your sketches. He had the one of your mother and the one you'd done of Shane and Judy, the two pieces you'd wanted back so badly, in a drawer beside his bed. 

You'd had a bad moment when you walked in the room, but Shane's hand had never left yours and it turned out Negan's bedroom was just a place, too. 

You didn't go down to the factory floor or the infirmary, but you were fine with that. You'd gotten what you wanted from the Sanctuary- your art and some closure. It would be fine in the hands of Tanya and Frankie and Laura, and whoever of your people ended up going over there. Someone would. Someone had to. But no one had volunteered yet. 

It had only been two weeks, and things were still a little chaotic. Alexandria was in better shape than it had any right to be, all things considered, but repairs were still in progress. The same was true of the Kingdom, and while some had moved back to both of those communities, Hilltop was still overcrowded with refugees while things were being put back together and sorted out. 

Maybe that was part of why you'd wanted to go to the Sanctuary so badly. You'd just needed some time away from the crowd of people, and away from Jesus' trailer. Sharing space with your brother, Shane, and Carl and Judy wasn't usually a big deal, but it was getting a little cramped in the tiny trailer. 

Carl and Judy were heading back to Alexandria today- Rick had declared it ready for that- and you had a feeling it wouldn't be long before you and Shane and Darrie got to move back too. Rick's house had been left relatively undamaged, but the Dixon-Walsh house had gone up in flames and was still being repaired. When it was ready, you already knew you were moving home. 

You loved Maggie, you loved Hilltop, but Shane couldn't be far from Judy or Rick or Carl for long, and you'd never ask him to. 

"Hey, sis." 

"Hmmm?" You didn't look up from the paper, hand still moving as you filled in the details. Shane was working with Alden to build something- you'd already joked about him needing a spotter up there, then stared hard and obviously at his ass- and you were putting it on paper. Shane at work in the sunlight was one of your favorite subjects, after all. 

"I need ya help with somethin'. Shit, put the damn pencil down an' make some eye contact, please," Darrie said, voice impatient as you kept drawing. 

You groaned, loud and dramatic, and shoved the pencil behind your ear as you widened your eyes deliberately to meet Darrie's. "Whaaaaat?" you demanded, drawing it out into a whine. 

He rolled his eyes at you and you heard Shane's laugh, and Daryl shot his middle finger up at him without looking. Of course, that just made Dickhead laugh harder, and you were grinning too. "I need ya help. Don't worry, pig," he added in a yell as you closed the sketchbook and climbed to your feet. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"I can take care of myself," you protested hotly, which of course went largely ignored. "Where are we going?" 

Daryl's eyes focused on something over your shoulder. "Handle some unfinished business. Get ya gun; let's go." 

You turned and saw Dwight already leaning on the passenger side of a truck, and you sighed. 

"Get out." 

Darrie's voice broke the silence that had filled the truck the whole way, and you opened your eyes- you had not fallen asleep, damn it- and frowned at the trees and nothing resembling a road that surrounded you. 

Dwight slid out of the backseat as you glanced at Darrie, question in your eyes. Your brother didn't look at you as he climbed out as well, and you wondered if he was going to kill Dwight like he'd said all along. You swallowed hard and climbed out as well, because you really, really hoped not. 

But this was Darrie's decision, and you wouldn't interfere. 

They stood, looking at each other in silence, and Dwight's face was resigned. You leaned against the truck and watched them watch each other, until Dwight took a deep breath and nodded. 

"I know why I'm here." Dwight's eyes flicked to you and then down to the ground. "I know what I did to Denise. To Merle. To you." He gestured to Darrie, who didn't so much as flinch. You realized you were chewing on your thumbnail and tried to stop. 

"To other people. And it doesn't matter why," D continued. "I knew I'd have to face it, to pay, and I should. I'm ready." 

You hadn't meant to say anything, but when he tipped his head back to the sun with a smile on his lips, you couldn't contain the tiny noise of protest. Darrie didn't move or look your way, but D turned that smile on you and shook his head. 

"No, Ace. I am. I'm ready. I got to see Negan taken down, and that is enough. Me? I'm a piece of shit. There's no going back to how things were," he added softly, staring your brother in the eyes. He dropped to his knees, eyes closing for a moment as he did, before looking back into Daryl's face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please." 

It was the please that had you pushing off the truck, tears in your eyes at the desperation in Dwight's voice. Goddamn it, Darrie, you thought. End it now or- 

"Shut up," Daryl snapped. He looked at you and tossed a set of keys down in front of Dwight. "You go, and you keep goin'. You don't ever come back here again. If I see your face around here again, I'll kill you. You go out there and you make it right. Find her. Come on, sis." 

He swung the crossbow over his shoulder and jerked his head toward the trees. You stared between him and where Dwight still knelt, slumped on the ground, and nodded. 

It was the right choice, and a better one than you'd thought your brother would make. You squeezed his hand as he went by, but you didn't follow him. 

"D." 

Dwight drew in a shuddering breath and scrubbed his hands over his face before pushing to his feet. He looked over at you, and you stared into his eyes. 

"Thank you," you said finally. 

"What the hell for?"

You shrugged. "You got me out. Thank you." 

"Had to," he said quietly, eyes sliding from yours. "I had to." 

"No, you didn't." You stepped closer, eyes on him as he stared at the ground. "Thank you." 

Then you slammed your fist into his jaw so hard his head snapped back. You heard Daryl's concerned noise and rapid steps behind you and waved him off without looking as D staggered a little. 

"That's for what you did to Darrie," you informed him steadily. 

Dwight rubbed his jaw and nodded. "I understand." 

You nodded back, then tossed your arms around him for a hard hug. You let go as quickly as you'd latched on, knowing Darrie would probably rip you away from D if you didn't. "That's for everything else," you informed him, throat closing up as you backed away. "Go find Sherry. Tell her if I ever see her again, I'm punching her too." 

D's lips turned up in a slight smile, and you smiled back. "And tell her thanks," you added softly.

Darrie put his hand on your shoulder and you nodded without looking at him. It was time. 

"Be happy," Dwight said quietly. 

"I'm certainly going to try," you agreed. "Come on, Darrie. Let's go." 

You didn't look back as you walked away with your brother, but you heard Dwight's shaky breath and the truck door opening. 

"Aight, ya shits, where the fuck are ya?" 

You rolled your eyes at Merle's tone, knowing damn well he wasn't really mad. You didn't move from the branch you'd perched on, back comfortable against the tree and book in hand. Darrie was a two branches up on the other side of the tree, crossbow ready and watching the rabbit trap he'd set up and tried to teach you how to make. 

Merle didn't make a sound moving through the trees, but you could track him anyway. When he got close enough, you lobbed the pinecone you'd grabbed when he first yelled, then exploded into laughter as both yours and Darrie's bounced off Merle's head at the same time. 

Merle rubbed his head as he glared up at your tree. "Assholes. Did ya plan that?" 

You leaned around the tree to grin at your brother, who shrugged. "Naw," he called down. "We's just good like that." 

"Ya two are gonna get yaselves in some serious shit someday," Merle informed you. 

He looked pissed, but he didn't sound it, and you giggled. "Maybe," you agreed. "But we'll get ourselves right back out of it too!" 

"Damn right, sis," Darrie agreed lazily. "Damn right."


	79. Lie #79: "We're Friends, Asshole, Nothing More." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
> canon typical violence  
> mentions of drug abuse

Since he knew what Daryl wanted before he approached Slugger about it, Shane wasn't too worried. He did keep an eye on them as they drove out, but Shane trusted his woman to take care of herself and her brother to get her out of anything he drug her into; and Dwight, well. Shane didn't know if Dixon was planning on killing him or sending him off with an ultimatum, but either way, he wasn't worried. 

Which was why when Carl and Judy were ready to move back home to Alexandria, Shane had no problem snatching the keys from Carl's far too excited hands and slipping into the driver's seat. "I'll teach you how to actually drive, little man, but not with your sister in the car," he informed the kid dryly when Carl gave him a deeply crestfallen look.

Alexandria was better than it should have been, considering the amount of smoke and thunder Negan had brought down on the place, but it wasn't completely whole yet. The gates and- Shane assumed- the back wall had been restored, and most of the simple cleanup was done, but he could see the scars and knew they'd be there for a long time. 

He sat across the table from his best friend while Judy tore through the house yelling about everything she found still where she'd left it and stared at him in silence. 

"You don't agree," Rick said softly. "I know." 

"I don't." Shane shifted in the chair, thinking about his trip to the Sanctuary and the hitch in Slugger's step as she walked into the wives' quarters and the worse one in Negan's bedroom. She'd said it was just a place, and she'd meant it, but his Ace had gone through hell there, all at the hands of the bastard Rick had demanded they save. "I think it was a dick move. We were gonna kill him." 

"We were." 

Shane met Rick's eyes and asked the question he'd been avoiding for two weeks, while he decided how to approach this whole thing. "So. What changed? Cause my mind sure didn't. Neither did Maggie's, or Daryl's. Most other people's." 

It was Rick who shifted now, half-gesturing as he looked away. "I don't know, 22. Not really. I was gonna kill him. I was trying to. But then- " 

Shane took a sip of water as his partner pinched the bridge of his nose in a move Shane knew well. 

"Come with me," Rick said finally. "I wanna show you something." 

They'd beefed up the cell. Added some features and made it more secure, and put someone on the door. Shane knew Rick's attempt at recreating civilization when he saw it. 

Honestly, he wondered how long it would be before he was back in a uniform keeping the peace. 

Negan lay on the bed with his throat wrapped in crisp white bandages and his eyes closed. Funny how, to Shane at least, he didn't look any less like the dangerous motherfucker who'd strolled out of that RV and smiled at them all. 

He really thought Rick was making a mistake here, but Shane leaned in the doorway and watched while they checked things over. 

"We know you're awake," Michonne said mildly. 

Negan's eyes didn't open; he didn't twitch. "I never said I wasn't," he rasped in a hoarse whisper. 

"Good. Because we need to tell you some things." Michonne moved closer, a strange look in her eyes, and her voice dropped to match Negan's whisper. "And you don't have to open your eyes yet. But you're going to open them soon… Because we're going to make you watch what happens." 

Shane shot Rick a mildly concerned look, and his brother gestured him to just wait. Negan's eyes opened slowly and he blinked like he hadn't done that in awhile, barely turning his head as Rick leaned over the bed. 

"And this isn't about who you killed. We've killed people. No, this is about what you did to us, what you did to so many people." Rick snarled the words, white bandage of his own on his hand and wrist catching Shane's eye as Rick slipped into speech mode and gestured. "How you made people live for you, how you put people under your boot-" 

Shane took three steps into the room as Negan pushed himself up, eyes full of hate and voice as loud as he could make it. "I saved people!" 

He shouldn't have bothered, and his eyes shot up when Michonne calmly squeezed Negan's throat until he gagged. "Michonne," he said after a beat, because damn, he hated the man, but that shit was cold. 

Michonne met his eyes steadily. "He needs to know. This isn't a discussion." 

"We can open up his stitches for a little while, just to remind him," Rick added nonchalantly. 

"Shit, brother." Shane whistled softly and shoved a hand through his hair, then decided to just go back to leaning against the wall when Negan's eyes cut his way. 

"Carl pictures something better," Rick told Negan. "All of us, working together for something bigger than all of us. And you'll have a job too." 

"Yeah," Michonne agreed, letting go of Negan's throat. "You get to be a part of it. You'll be an example of what this will be." 

The two of them stood over Negan in the light from the single, small window, and Shane had to admit they'd reached a level of petty he hadn't expected. Maybe, he thought as he watched Negan's reaction to looking around. Maybe this wasn't such a bad choice after all. 

"We're not going to kill you. We're not going to hurt you," Rick said simply. "You're going to rot in this cell. You're gonna be evidence that we're makin' a civilization, something like what we had. Something we're gonna get back." 

"And you get to watch it happen," Michonne added. "You get to see how wrong you were about what people can be, about what life can be."

"You, alive, is gonna help show people that things have changed, and keeping you breathing earns another way. A better way. That's the part you'll play." Rick turned and was halfway across the cell when Michonne spoke again. 

She hadn't moved from her stare down with Negan, and Shane saw the slightly concerned look in Rick's eyes as she spoke. "So after all this… maybe you're good for something."

He shook his head as he slid into the truck, staring at the barred window of the cell. "I don't know, brother. I see what you're aiming for, but it's risky." 

"Will you back me on it?" Rick asked, thumbs hooked in his gun belt and stubborn-bastard look in his eyes. 

Shane rolled his own. "Of course I will. I'm just sayin'. Make sure you've thought it through. Others ain't so easy to convince, and that's not even talking about the Saviors." 

"I know. I'm sure." 

"Alright." Shane stepped back out of the truck, gave Rick another backslapping hug, and flashed him a grin. "Put my house back together, would you?" 

"Go away, 22." 

He could hear them bickering through the open door of Jesus' trailer, and Shane stopped at the bottom of the stairs to listen as Ace's voice went from half-annoyed complaint to wild laughter while she called her brother an idiot and an asshole. Jesus' calm attempt at mediation did little to cover the laughter bubbling under the surface, and Shane couldn't stop the smile. 

He missed the fucking lump, but he had his family. His Slugger was ok, and carrying his babies, and here. Her damn twin, thorn in Shane's side and maybe his best friend these days besides Rick, was teasing Ace right now, lighthearted tone something Shane hadn't heard since Dixon came back without Ace or Merle and with Eugene passed out in the truck bed.

Rick, Carl, and Judy were all safe and happy back in Alexandria, and Shane knew well enough that the Dixon-Walsh household would join them soon. 

He had his family, and he was a lucky bastard. 

"Goddamn it, Darrie!" 

"Don't fuckin' call me Darrie-" 

"Come on now, children," he called as he took the steps two at a time to come through the door. "Can't you get along in front of the guest for two minutes?" 

"Guest? I live here," Jesus muttered mildly, but Shane was busy ducking when both Dixons turned in unison and lobbed something at his head. 

He stared at them both flatly as they cracked the fuck up, glancing down at the rolled-up sock balls that had thudded into the wall beside his head and now rolled at his feet. They'd been easy toys for Judy, and now- 

Shane scooped them up and started moving as Ace shrieked, Jesus sighed, and Daryl's eyes glowed as he started flinging more ammunition Shane's way. 

Somehow, the sneaky little ninja won their sock war. Shane maintained that it was because he knew the territory- it was his trailer, after all- and because their ammunition was limited. Daryl said it was because he cheated. Ace was too busy madly sketching to have an opinion, but Shane and Daryl expressed theirs loudly enough they figured that would do. 

Jesus used the barest movement of his shoulders to shrug, then winked at Shane when Daryl wasn't looking. 

Shane lost his shit as Jesus collected some of his things and headed back to the main house. He seemed to have taken up residence on Maggie's office couch, and Shane was fine with that since it meant Maggie wasn't working too long or too hard. 

Alone with his Dixon twins, Shane sat down beside Slugger and waited for her to emerge from the haze. 

She did so almost immediately, flipping the sketchbook closed after running her finger over the lines lightly. She had graphite on her fingers as she twinned them with his, and Shane didn't give a single damn. "So," she said softly. "How was Alexandria?" 

"Coming back to life," Shane said. He pulled her closer to his side as Daryl flopped down near them. Dixon wasn't looking their way, but Shane could read the stiffness in his shoulders and the avoidance in his deliberate stare at his fingers. "Rick's got it moving, like Rick does." 

"That sounds right," Ace agreed. "Darrie, don't you dare start chewing on that nail. We're going back soon, right? I love Hilltop, I love Maggie, but this isn't home. And now that the kids are gone…" 

She trailed off as Daryl scoffed, lifting his thumb to his mouth in a deliberate display of defiance that had her sighing loudly. Shane kissed her fingers and slid partway out from behind her to casually knock Dixon's hand away. Daryl's glare was worth it, since it got him looking Shane's way. 

"He's alive. Rick's keeping him alive. I'm not sure I agree with it, but I see what he's trying to do. Show a new path, a new way. A way forward where we work together and try to get back to where we were." 

Daryl scoffed. "Ain't no goin' back to where we were." 

"I agree," Slugger said seriously. "But that doesn't mean we can't go forward. Maybe we even make something better." 

"Be better if he's dead." 

Shane sighed and shoved his free hand through his hair. "I don't know. And see, that's the thing. My way has had a tendency to backfire. Rick's way- Rick's way always seems to work out, in the end. I'm backing his play." 

"Course ya are. Fuckin' pigs." 

There was no bite in Daryl's muttering, so Shane ignored it. "When the house is fixed, I'd like to move back. Slugger?" 

"Duh," she said dryly, clearly still focused on her brother. "Judy. Carl. Home." 

Shane pulled her closer and kissed her hair. "I'm concerned about taking you away from the medical equipment here." 

"I'm fine. We're all fine. Ultrasound says so," she whispered. "And Siddiq is going to be back and forth all the time. If anything happens-" She paused, cleared her throat, and continued steadily as Shane tightened his grip on her hand. "If anything happens, Alexandria is still close. I say let's go home. Jesus wants his space back." 

"Fuckin' ninja don't give a shit. I ain't goin." 

Shane wasn't surprised, but he felt Ace stiffen. "Daryl-" 

"Naw." Dixon blue eyes met his, then cut to Ace. "Ya already knew, pig. Sis. I cain't. Not while he's alive and there." 

"Darrie," Ace whispered, voice thick with tears. "But…" 

"I know," he agreed. "Ain't happy about it neither. Imma go over to the Sanctuary. Help get it all straight. Need someone with a fuckin' backbone over there, force people to accept things way they are." 

Shane privately thought that sounded a little similar to what Negan tried to do, but from the look on Daryl's face and the way Ace was holding herself still, now wasn't the time. He sighed again, rubbing his thumb over Ace's knuckles to try to calm her down. "You sure, brother?" 

"Ain't your brother," Daryl shot back, but like the pig comments, there wasn't a kick to it. "I'm sure. Sis, I'm sorry. But I cain't do it. I'll kill him if I'm there." 

Ace drew in a deep breath and nodded, and Shane wished he could do something to make this not happen. But Rick wanted Negan alive, and Rick would keep him that way. Shane had lost his chance when Ace darted to the bastard's side in the field, and he knew it. 

He had to hope Rick was right, and Daryl would come around. 

\--- hey, Dickhead? Tell Atlanta PD they can kiss my fuckin ass

Shane lifted one eyebrow in surprise, sipping from his beer while he tried to figure out just what would have caused Slugger to get annoyed with the PD. Even when they were arresting her, she was cheerful about shit. 

\--- got cop problems, Slugger? Need a hand? 

"You good?" Rick asked lazily as the TV blared a demand that they come on down to check out the latest sale at the mattress store. 

Shane considered and rejected a joke about trying out mattresses. Considering he was about to say something about Slugger, he didn't want to open the floor for the jokes from Rick and Lori. They'd come anyway, but he didn't have to hand them the opportunity on a silver platter. "Slugger might have cop problems. Not sure yet," he said with a shrug. 

\--- no, im fine. Just getting dicked around while trying to pick up my idiot brother

\--- Shit, girl, I'm sorry. What's he in for? 

\--- Officer Condescending is about to get an earful goddamn it

Shane snorted as he typed. "She's trying to pick her brother up from the PD and apparently someone can't keep his opinions to himself." 

\--- give him hell, baby

\--- oh I'm going to

"You gonna make a call?" 

"To who?" Shane asked dryly. "I don't work there, and condescending isn't something you can really punish. She can handle it." 

Rick made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. "What's the brother in for?" 

"Don't know," Shane said absently. He spun his phone in his hand, but his eyes were back on the game. "She didn't say specifically, but the older one tends to be bad news. Gang, drugs, violence- take your pick." 

"Shit," Rick said dryly. "And she's got a record too. You sure about getting mixed up with her?" 

"We're friends, asshole, nothing more," Shane fired back, voice deliberately bored. "She only associates with the brother when he needs bailing out. Family loyalty and all, but she doesn't approve. Of either of them." 

"Got more than one?" 

"Yeah, she's got a twin- watch that shit fly!" he crowed as the crack of the bat sent the ball winging toward the outfield. "Twin brother, and an older one. Twin is trying to manage the other, and according to Slugger, just keeps fucking his own life up doing it. Twin doesn't have a sheet, though. Keeps his nose clean." 

\--- How's it going? 

Rick half-laughed. "Checking up on her anyway?" 

Shane flipped Rick off and frowned at his phone. If she didn't respond soon he might actually make a call, damn it. They shouldn't be giving her shit if she was just there to pick one of the assholes up. 

\--- Officer Condescending has been put in his place. Idiot brother is stumbling his high ass toward my car. Idiot brother number two will meet me at their place to take him off my hands  
\--- I hate family 

Shane snorted at the second message, cause holy shit did he know how that felt. "She's good. Got the brother. He's high, but she's tough. She can handle it." 

\--- go Slugger. Dump the idiots and come see me.

\--- I'm working tonight, Dickhead. You come see ME.

Shane eyed the beer on the table and the game on tv. He could finish the game with Rick and be in Atlanta by seven if he wanted to. 

\--- might take you up on it. Save me my seat.


	80. Lie #80: "It's Not A Republic of Rick Anymore, Right?" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

"Aaaaaaaaaaace?" 

You tried not to hear the wail, desperately attempting to keep in rhythm, but it was hard to ignore Judy when she used that tone. Shane would get her, you told yourself, eyes narrowing on the details you were layering into the portrait Ruby from Oceanside had asked you to do for her partner's birthday. You were adding low lights to the puppy's fur, and since you were doing it based on a description and one creased and blood-stained photograph, it wasn't exactly easy. 

"Mama Aceeeeee!"

"Fuck," you told the puppy on the easel mildly, then sighed and dropped the brush. 

You couldn't ignore the 'mama'. Sneaky little thing knew it too, you thought as you headed up the stairs to her room. She only pulled that one out when she was being manipulative. 

You glanced into your room on the way past, trying not to roll your eyes at Shane passed out in bed still, oblivious to his daughter's wail. He'd been out late last night, working with Rick and Michonne on something to do with the Sanctuary and possibly Oceanside. He'd told you a little about it when he crawled into bed, but you'd been half-asleep and barely cognizant. 

Then, of course, Thing 1 and Thing 2 had decided four am was a great time to play, and you'd been up since then trying to paint a puppy. 

You closed your bedroom door to let him sleep and rubbed a hand over where someone was kicking you in the ribs. "I know, I know. Breakfast. That's what Judy wants too," you informed whichever twin owned the foot. 

Five months in, and you were starting to show finally. Siddiq said it was normal for it to take awhile, especially with the first pregnancy, but you were still worried the starvation diet you'd been on for a bit after the war with Negan had caused your babies some harm. It didn't matter that he'd assured you they were hitting all their developmental markers, as far as he could tell. They were still small, and of course you were worried. 

"Good morning," you said brightly, opening Judy's door. 

She beamed at you, curls a mess around her head and eyes bright with delight that her plan for attention had paid off. "Morning, Ace!" 

"You're a rat," you informed her, reaching out your arms. "Potty time?" 

"Potty," she agreed, climbing out of bed to run to you. You scooped her up and gave her a hug, then set her down and took her hand as you headed for the bathroom. "Daddy?" 

"Daddy Shane's still asleep, baby girl. So we're gonna be quiet, right?" 

She nodded. "Breakfast? Carl?" 

"I think we're going to visit Aunt Maggie and Uncle Darrie today. Maybe Carl will come with us, but I think he's working with Daddy Rick," you told her. "You use the potty, then come on downstairs. I'll get us some breakfast going. I think we can make some oatmeal today. Sound good?" 

"With blueberries?" 

"Why not?" you agreed, ruffling her curls. "Comb your hair. Don't wake up Daddy." 

You rubbed the foot in your ribs again and went back downstairs smiling. 

Alexandria had been largely rebuilt. There were still some burned-out husks of buildings, but that was only because Rick's attention had turned to expanding instead of just rebuilding what had been before the bombing.

The Kingdom was back up and running as well, and food was becoming less of the critical issue it had been for awhile. It wasn't good, by any means, but the situation was rapidly becoming more manageable. You had a feeling Maggie would be talking about yield ratios and other things you didn't understand when you went to see her later. 

She and Darrie still wouldn't set foot in Alexandria, and it hurt not to have either of your brothers where they should be. Darrie's room was set up for him for when he decided to visit- or, you hoped, just move home from the fucking Sanctuary- but when you'd stood in the doorway of what had been Merle's room, you'd broken down into tears at the thought of doing anything with it. The door stayed closed, and you tried not to think about it too hard. You missed Merle more than you wanted to admit, and on days when Judy stayed at the Grimes' place, the house was too damn quiet. 

But you'd go see Darrie today, you reminded yourself. Swinging from Hilltop all the way to Sanctuary didn't make Shane happy, especially since he didn't like you going to the Sanctuary in the first place, but there were some papers and things Rick wanted delivered to both Maggie and Daryl, and you were itching for a visit anyway. Besides, Siddiq wanted you for a quick exam and Judy needed a check-up too. 

It was strange how life had already begun to move on, you mused as you set oatmeal in a bowl to cool and plopped some blueberries from your stash on top. 

Carol had stayed with Ezekiel in the Kingdom. She'd found some kind of peace there, peace with herself and the things she'd done, and she and the Shakespearian king were the kind of odd couple that delighted you to no end. You'd done several sketches and a couple of paintings of the two of them, and you had plans for an oil painting of Shiva for Ezekiel's birthday, if you could find some more oils. 

You'd put Tara on it, you decided. She did most of the supply running, since she enjoyed being on the move. She spent a lot of her down time in Oceanside these days, and you wondered if she had a girlfriend there that she didn't want to tell any of you about. 

"And then Mama Ace got me up and she said we could have blueberries for breakfast!" 

You sighed and grabbed another bowl as Judy's chatter carried down the stairs. It seemed she'd ignored you completely and gotten Shane up after all. 

He had her in his arms, eyes tired but serious as he carried her down the stairs. "Did she? That's nice of her. But you should probably have waited until she came to get you. It's early, baby girl." 

"Didn't I tell you to let Daddy sleep?" you asked Judy pointedly. 

She smiled and leaned her head on Shane's shoulder without saying a word, and you rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh. 

"Good morning," you said dryly to Shane. 

He leaned over and brushed his lips to yours, lingering for another kiss while Judy giggled. "Good morning, Slugger." 

You could tell by the way he looked at you that he wasn't happy about your plans for the day, but he didn't say anything. Judy settled in with her breakfast at the table, and Shane came back into the kitchen to wrap his arms around you as you dished oatmeal into bowls for the two of you. His thumb traced circles over the bump that was your babies, and you leaned into him with a sigh. 

"I told her not to wake you up. Late one last night, Dickhead." 

"Yeah. Rick's thinking formal trade agreements. He has ideas, and they're not bad, but it's gonna be interesting getting the others to agree to some of it. You were up early," he mumbled, kissing your neck before taking both bowls from you. "Water. You need it." 

"Yeah, yeah." You grabbed two waters and the almost empty bottle of prenatal vitamins and followed him to the table. That was another reason to head to see Darrie. The Sanctuary had more stashed in the infirmary, and you were going to raid their supply instead of Hilltop's. "The babies decided four am was time to party." 

"I'm sorry. You should stay here today. Take a nap. Carl can take Judy," Shane offered. 

"Nice try, but I'm going to see my brother," you told him dryly. "I'm fine. Eat your breakfast so you can go tour the place, keep the peace, and solve some problems with Rick." 

He shoved a hand through his hair and turned to Judy with a mournful expression. "She doesn't listen to me anymore." 

"I never listened to you, Dickhead." 

"Be careful?" 

"Of course," you told him lightly, but you kissed him hard enough he'd know you meant it. 

Shane sighed, leaned his forehead to yours, and then bent to kiss the bump of your stomach twice. "Be good for your mama, you two. Tell Daryl I said he's an asshole, and tell Maggie she better be eating some of that fruit she keeps sending over." 

"I will," you agreed as you squeezed his hand. "Shane, it's a day run. We'll be back tonight." 

"I know, I know." He smiled at you, but you saw the worry in his eyes. "I just don't like you going there." 

"It's just a place, hero," you said softly. "Just the place where my brother is." 

"Yeah, and he shouldn't be. But it's also crawling with Saviors, and-" 

"And those Saviors are trying to become part of our community just like Oceanside. Just like the Kingdom and the Hilltop. We've had this conversation." You kept your tone light, because you knew he wasn't really worried they would try anything. Besides the fact that you could take care of yourself, your brother was in charge over there. You would be fine even if someone wanted to plan an insurrection. He was worried about what had happened there with Negan, but you had long since healed from that. 

Negan was in the cell, and you were here with Shane and happy. 

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "I just worry about you. Go on, get moving so you can come home." 

You rolled your eyes, kissed him again, and climbed into the car. "Ready, Judy?" 

"Ready!" she agreed brightly from the backseat. "Bye, Daddy!" 

"Bye, Daddy," you echoed her with a smile for Shane as he leaned into the open window. 

"Shit, Slugger, that's weird," he complained, but kissed you again anyway. 

"Shit!" Judy declared. 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair as you laughed. 

Maggie glowed. She was showing too, and she came with you so Siddiq could poke you both a bit and then use the ultrasound machine to confirm that everything was fine. They both reassured you that it was perfectly normal for twins to be small, and they were perfectly healthy in every other way. 

You were still stressed. 

Darrie was stressed too, even as he held Judy in his lap and solemnly handed her crayons so she could help him with his work by coloring in his notebook. Your brother wasn't worried about your babies, at least not right then. He'd studied the ultrasound and studied you, and informed you that you didn't come visit enough. 

You'd almost gotten into a fight when you'd shot back testily that he could come visit you as well, or just move home already, and what the hell was he doing here in this fucked-up place anyway? He'd been tortured here, damn it. He shouldn't have been there. 

You were well aware of the irony in that argument, seeing as how it was basically what Shane said every time you came to visit, but you meant it. Darrie looked haggard and worn out, and you were worried about him. 

"It's just- I dunno," Daryl said finally. "Ain't got nothin' to bring to the damn table, and they're getting restless. Ain't figured out that the rest of us ain't gonna carry their asses unless they contribute somethin' too, and they're getting angry about it all." 

You frowned, considering. The factory wasn't conducive to growing things. The city around was pretty well scavanged, and bringing in food from the other communities to keep the place running was putting a strain on community relations, which was part of Rick and Michonne's coalition brainchild. "Rick and Shane are working on official trade agreements. That might help." 

"Ain't gonna help if there's nothin' for us to trade," Darrie pointed out. 

"What if we just… disband this place?" you asked slowly. You'd thought it before, but this was the first you'd said it out loud. "Forget trying to make it work. We have successful communities. We don't need this one." 

"Ya wanna just abandoned everyone here?" 

You shook your head, shoving a hand through your hair as you thought. "No, of course not. Integrate them. Split everyone up into the rest of our communities. That way the strain on one isn't too bad. We're already feeding everyone anyway, and this way they can also be part of everything. It's not that we're carrying them, it's that they're part of us." 

"They're Saviors. You want 'em livin' in Alexandria with you and the kids?" 

You met his eyes steadily. "Darrie, they're people like the rest of us. There were- and are- bad seeds, but there's bad seeds in all of our communities. Oceanside had a theft. Shane stopped a feud over a rain barrel from becoming a full on fistfight last week. The Saviors followed a leader, same as we do." 

"Yeah," Daryl said grimly. "And some of 'em want him back. Rick needs to make his ass dead, and then, maybe. Maybe they'll fall in line. Long as he's alive, they're gonna want him in charge." 

"But he won't be. Darrie-" 

"I miss ya, sis," he interrupted you. "But ya know I ain't comin' back while Negan's there. Tell ya pig to fuckin' kill his ass, and then we'll talk. Ya need to hit the road. Gonna be dark soon, and I don't want you pulling a Lori." 

You sighed as you fired something smart back, not wanting the visit to end in an argument. But Darrie was wrong, and you knew it. 

It was a reunion of your favorite people. Your whole scattered clan had agreed to come together for a major discussion moment- at Hilltop, since Maggie and Darrie were still refusing to set foot in Alexandria. Laughter and hugs were the name of the game, and one of the twins was losing their shit in excitement. Hell, maybe it was both of them, you thought with a wince when Maggie laughed and you got kicked in the small intestine. 

Maybe they missed everyone as badly as you did. 

Sketchbook already open and pencil moving, you were trying to take it all in as well as get it all down- 

Maggie was rounder than you, which worried you some but you tried not to let it. Siddiq said she was a month or so ahead of you and not to worry. She glowed, of course, and she glowed more while acting as hostess or managing the small Hilltop problems that inevitably came up. Very little would even reach her today, what with Enid as her secretary running interference between flirting with Carl. 

Jesus hovered, but never let it show- to her at least- that he hovered. He hadn't changed at all, and you'd made him swear he never would. Still ninja silent until he made a pronouncement in a wise voice, he caught your eye as you stared around the room and winked at you while he handed a bottle of water to Maggie. She took it with an absent thanks and you grinned as she took a sip; Damn ninja had done that move with you a couple times too. 

Carol and Ezekiel tried to hide it but they were absolutely sleeping together. And it was, surprisingly, fairly new if you had to guess. It was in their sideways looks, how aware they were of each other at all times. Carol's exasperation with his Shakespearian persona seemed less than it usually was while he somehow found more ways to stare at her with a soft, awed smile, and you were going to give her so much shit. 

Tara sat with Cyndie and Rosita and Eugene, the four of them deep in some discussion you probably wouldn't have followed if you'd been able to hear over all the chaos. Carl had Judy and baby Gracie in the corner, watching the adults with his one eye so serious and a smile on his lips for the kids. Michonne waited calmly, sword propped up beside her chair in a simple statement of the peace you'd all worked so damn hard for over the last few months.

And of course, Rick, Dickhead, and Shane stood in a loose triangle, no doubt discussing the problems you'd gathered the family to solve. Shane's arms were crossed, head ducked, as he half-glared at your brother. Darrie's shoulders were tight and his eyes annoyed, but his gesture Shane's way didn't have the rough, flinging movement of when he was seriously pissed off. Rick held up a hand between them, stubborn bastard expression covering what you thought might be genuine worry in his eyes. 

You ripped a sheet of paper off the notepad in front of Shane's chair, balled it up, and lobbed it square at Rick's face. 

All conversation stopped as it bounced off it's target, and the three of them turned to stare at you in unison while the others tried to figure out just who had done that. All except Jesus and Carl, who were both silently losing their shit in separate corners. 

"You three need to sit down and share with the rest of the class," you told the boys dryly. "Come on. It's not a Republic of Rick anymore, right?" 

"Right," Rick agreed after a pause, slight smile on his lips as he looked away from you and around the room. "Well. Ace seems to have called the meeting to order." 

"Ace is good like that," you muttered. "Come on, everyone, sit down." 

Chairs scraped, conversations resumed as people milled around the table. You flipped to a fresh page and started on Rick, leaning against the back of his chair and staring down at the pile of papers in front of him. Michonne's hand touched his where it clenched on his chair, and Rick gave her that soft smile you loved seeing from them. 

They were happy. So were Carol and Ezekiel. So were, in a different sort of way, Maggie and Jesus. Tara and her mystery girlfriend in Oceanside (she was real, and she wasn't Cyndie), and Rosita and, shockingly, Father Gabriel- they radiated content and happiness. Carl and Enid were all teen angst and drama and love, and in one of the damn hormone surges you already hated, you fought back tears while your family settled down and shut up. 

"You ok, sweetheart?" Shane whispered. 

You nodded and reached for his hand under the table, focusing on speeding through the last of Rick before he moved. "Yeah. I'm ok. Just so happy, because they're all happy." 

"Look, Rick, I ain't happy about it none either, but we gotta do somethin'." 

You shook your head and chuckled when your brother chose to open the discussion that way, leaning across the table from the foot end toward Rick at the head. 

"Sanctuary ain't producin' shit, and it's not fuckin' worth y'alls efforts," he added as he stabbed a finger into the table. 

"We've got trade agreements-" 

"They ain't got nothin' to trade!" Darrie's voice turned into a yell, but he gestured apologetically and leaned back in his seat. "Sorry. Just- been a rough few months." 

"Daryl, are you suggesting we abandon the Sanctuary?" Maggie asked. 

"Yeah." 

"What about-" 

You weren't sure who half-started the hesitant question and you sighed. Uncomfortable faces shifted, eyes on each other but not directly, and you ground your teeth together. None of them wanted to say it, so you would. 

"What about the Saviors?" you shot out. "What about them? Integrate them. It's the location that's failing, not the people." 

Rosita scoffed. "We don't know that." 

"Actually, we do," you fired back serenely. "Alden, Jake, Sheila and Tom, Tanya, Gina, Frank D, Skinny Joey- you know each of them; you like each of them." 

"They're different," Tara protested. 

"Why?" Shane's hand tightened on yours at your tone, but you honestly wanted to know. "What makes them so different from everyone else at the Sanctuary?" 

"They chose to join us." 

You turned to Rick slowly and leaned back in your chair, staring him down. "You told the rest of them to go home, and that we would help them rebuild. You can't have it both ways, Rick."

"You're suggesting we integrate them into our communities." Maggie's brisk tone broke the silence. "All of them." 

"Yeah, I am." You scooped up your pencil again, doodling nonsense on the page now while you waited to see how it would fall. It was up to Rick, as it was always up to Rick. Even with the Republic of Rick no longer in place, if Rick wasn't on board, the rest of the group wouldn't be either. "Rick?" 

He shifted his weight, looking off to the side as he thought about how to respond to you. You remembered first seeing that move, in a camp outside of Georgia, and how you'd angrily sketched him and Darrie and Dickhead as they excluded you from a decision. Now you were forcing them to make one, and you liked that much better. 

"I don't know," he said finally. "I don't know if we can trust them." 

"Then you should have killed Negan," you told him bluntly. Maggie twitched, Shane glanced at you in surprise, and you saw Darrie scoff from the corner of your eye, but you didn't respond to any of them. You held Rick's eyes and told him what he already knew. You saw it in his body language, and this was just the kill shot. "You chose this path to the future, Rick. Walk it or pick a different path." 

You turned back to your sketchbook as the silence grew.


End file.
